What the Voices Cry
by Morbid DramaQueen10
Summary: The "What if" story to "What The Voices Say". Must read WTVS first. Shoot off from Chapt 38-40. Story # 2. Artemis & Sophie
1. The Call is Late

**Wow, It's been a while. Well, a new school year does that. Sorry guys.**

**Anyhow, this is story #2. I won't say much, I need to study for finals (yikes!), so here is my summary:**

What if Sophie left? In Chapter 38-40 of What the Voices Say, what if Sophia had said "no" in the end? What if she did go to New York? What would happen to Artemis?

She keeps her promise and visits every year. She calls. She doesn't do dangerous things. She is a good girl. She has her freedom—yet not. What if you loved someone so much, that you left them? What if they prevented you from moving on, kept you in guilt for everyday of your life?

He pretends to be in control. He has is empire, his gold, his intellect to shield him. He can have anything. But what if the one thing you wanted most of all wasn't in your grasp, wasn't worth any of it, just walked out for no _real_ reason? What if you were so smart to keep from the brink of insanity, but so over the edge to scheme it all array?

A plan. Perfect, beautiful, nearly foolproof.

A threat. Plain, avoidable, undeniably existent.

A promise.

A love.

A hate.

A perfection. Tempting, worth more than…than…

This is the essence of What the Voices Cry.

Oh yes, it is cheese-filled and dramatic!

Review, I'll love you. ~Dania.

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Artemis Fowl had aged well. One might attribute this fact to his close contact with the Fairy People, severely early maturing, or perhaps good genetics. Whatever it was, the gift did not get full appreciation from its owner. Artemis never bothered in being vain; he hadn't any reason to. Not since someone had woke up beside him, teasingly saying he looked like a dream with 5 o'clock shadow and rumpled hair. That someone had been long gone indeed, and Mr. Fowl saw no reason to preen without that someone to comment sarcastically.

Tall, black hair with roots revealing gray, lean and handsome with angular features of a blueblood, Artemis was, as one _Good Morning America _reporter said, _"Irish eye candy"._ He was even more so if one were to count his billions. Every major newspaper and tabloid kept tabs on the bachelor, offering celebrity and royal matches. Some even made suggestions toward preferences unacceptable by most. Not that Artemis knew. Or cared. He had little time to ponder the headlines in the flashy, ridiculous excuses for news media.

The only thing Artemis Fowl truly cared about anymore wasn't even in his grasp, the reason why he was so very occupied with it. Money could come and go, the Fowl had their billions. The company rarely was the one keeping him up at night. Transatlantic calls haunted his thoughts, dates his sleep. Artemis counted down the days between each phone call and each visit meticulously, making Nostradamus-like predictions. On the days of these all he took the entire day to himself, shutting the doors of his room, reliving memories kept dear.

If the calls were late Artemis became rather testy ordering informants about in a raging manner to _"Find her, bloody hell! If anything has happened to her I will ensure you never…find her!", _yelling at staff, ignoring his glorious empire for days.

But that was Sophia. Disorganized, disarrayed, late and utterly annoying.

Every six months or so Sophie called. Sometimes once every third month. In July she came back to Fowl Manor. It was huge event in the household. All of the staff dreaded the time like CPAs "anticipated" tax season. Artemis aired out her rooms all of June, ordered her favourite foods, repainted rooms and did his best to work up that annual illusion of contentment. Yet she easily saw through the delicate façade. As horribly Hallmark as it sounded, Artemis Fowl II was broken. Terribly so. And by her hand.

Oh, and she knew how much the phone calls hurt. But somehow she had to monitor him. Juliet could only tell her so much; Artemis hardly spoke anymore. When he did it was only rarely personal and never about his emotions. Talking to him occasionally assured her of his well-being, frail as it might be.

Between the visits, Christmas and birthday cards, and phone calls Artemis's life was dull, nothing similar to his childhood. He invented, wrote, debated and stunned the world repeatedly. Sometimes Holly came up (literally), though not as much either would like. There wasn't any reason for her to visit; you cannot save the world if it is not in peril.

Well, nearly peril less. The worst thing was already in a decline. Holly proposed to Artemis a "Go-Green" campaign, borrowing some of the LEP natural resources department's methods to market under Fowl Industries. Since the owner was to be severely monitored and the entire process helpful to the planet, Foaly and the Council agreed. Global warming was on a decline, and now the Council spoke of more visas to places once considered too toxic for the People. So many fairies were clean out of magic with a sudden population boom and lack of shuttles for the full moon days, they were taking risks.

Artemis also founded a few Fair Trade stores and websites. He marketed pills that removed methane gas from both humans and cows. Jobs were offered at Fowl Industries for those with potential but no money for education. There was a Fowl Star university scholarship fund. He kept busy.

It still wasn't enough.

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The gods indeed must have been smiling upon her today. Fortune this great was rare.

It was Juliet who met her at the airport. Not Butler or Artemis, the dark duo who usually greeted her back to the country. Juliet typically waited in the car, bouncing to see her friend. Sophie thought it odd, but was not particularly concerned. Artemis might just have gotten caught up in a meeting, or waited in the car… _"Right. Like he hasn't had this day highlighted on his calendar for the last 10 months, screamed at anyone who suggested a event even within a week of my arrival…prat." _If anything was wrong the Butler girl would be the one to tell her.

As the years flew, Juliet Butler was allowed constant contact with Sophia. They'd most kept contact through emails, on occasion a call, and were together excited about Sophia's yearly visits. Or, at least, Juliet was. Female companionship was hard to come by in her career path--both in the body guarding and professional wrestler businesses. Sophie was one of few who gladly kick boxed with her, and of an even smaller group who won.

"Hey! Iver, this way!"

Juliet, energetic as always, waved one perfectly French-tipped finger, grinning. Regardless of Sophia's suddenly darkened mood, she couldn't resist smiling back. Fighting her way through the crowd waiting for baggage, she offered the older woman a one-armed hug, the other limb being occupied by her carry-on.

"How are you? Still guarding that pale blueblood?" Sophie joked, snagging her gray Dockers suitcase with one hand, extending the handle with one kick aimed at the base. Anyone would've thought they were grand old friends, not a protective escort and her scheming charge.

"Yes. And he's as demanding as always." Something about Juliet's tight smile made Sophie consider there must have been some stress involving her arrival for the Fowl employees. Even the Butlers hadn't escaped it, not this year. _"Oh my. He's gotten worse." _

"_Is that possible?"_ The snide voice of her sister asked.

Sophie backtracked. "How's Butler? Still got that cottage, by the sea? Do you see him often?"

The chatted about this and other civil nonsense all during the walk the course of the Dublin International Airport and on the drive "home". Five o'clock traffic took them some time to wade through, but they made it to the outskirts in no time. Sophie admired the car; a shiny black Enviro Car designed by Artemis, just three years on the market. His was completely cherried out in hardwood on the dash, automatically adjusting gel-seats, state-of-the-art stereo and vocal command operations. She's considered purchasing one months ago, but decided it was inconvenient in the city. Besides, Artemis would know the instant her credit card scanned and would gripe about the transaction for ages--_"I would've gladly provided one, Sophie. A gift—I designed it after all, you know they give me a few to dish out to employees and whatnot."--_something she would rather not hear.

They were less than one kilometer from the gate when Sophia asked the question the pair had been tensed for during the length of the drive. Every year, when they reached the gate, she asked. It was standard. Sometimes it was Butler who received the questions. Sometimes, she could ask it before she even saw him, like in this instance. But in the end, she had to judge for herself.

_The first:_ "Is he sleeping at night?"

"Yes, a little better than last you ask. Thanks for the tip, by the way. Chamomile and mint was helpful."

_The second:_ "Good. Is he…keeping busy?"

Juliet hesitated. "Lately he's been on these…business trips…without me or Butler along. They're not in the best of places, either. If he were going across the channel I could understand him not wanting to take us, but to places like…these place? I'm worried." Her voice drifted. Sophie hardly heard the last words come out of any Butler's mouth. "I'm afraid he's planned something…but I can't say what."

Sophie gritted her teeth. The older woman's drifty manner suggested a determination to say something without outright saying it. Sophia was not in the mood for deciphering today. "Juliet…"

"Some of these places are just suicidal. I'm afraid that's what he's trying, subconsciously. Every time, pushing himself a little bit farther, mouthing his hosts a little bit more."

Artemis might well be acting it out. Then again, it could all be subconscious. But he was far too sly for that.

Whatever it was, Sophie could safely say it was influenced by her decision eight years ago. She honestly wasn't being vain! All evidence agreed. Artemis's life was so screwed up by her departure, his concept of normal human mortality diminished to a point where the only reason he was still breathing was for his parent's sake.

That was not to say it was necessarily Sophia who was solely at fault; she was just the focus. Sophie had been the final block of the already tumbling pyramid. She was placed, briefly, in a position to lend support, but it ended up being an unstable place to put her block, so the whole thing kept falling down slowly in the progression of years. Minerva had started the descend, Sophia just helped it along.

Sophia did not consider it her fault. Artemis was a grown man, mature and exceptionally gifted in many forms. She had guilt over her actions yes, but did not regret them. Yes, she felt pity for him, felt terrible, wanted to help-but at this point the only person who could possibly help Artemis was himself.

_The third:_ "And does he still-" She swallowed. "he still-saying-"

"He still does, Sophie. All the time. Every night. The same words."

If she could take it all back, she would. If she could keep the pyramid from falling in, she would. If there was a way to beat it into his thick skull that it _was not his fault!_ They were both to blame. Were they? If she could…

She would.

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**Please review. Sorry about the errors, I was in a hurry to post.**

**~Dania**


	2. Flying Words and Dreadful Thoughts

**What the Voices Cry**

**By Morbid DramaQueen10, aka Dania**

**Chapter 2: Flying word and Dreadful Thoughts**

I forgot my **disclamier** last chapter: Sophie Iver, Tara Gavin, Sasha Iver (decesed), Marvin, Andreya Iver (basically any Ivers) belong solely to me. They are not based on real people. HOWEVER Artemis Fowl Jr. & Sr. Angeline Fowl, Minerva, Juliet and Domovio Butler, Holly Short, Foaly the Centaur, Opal Koboi, Mulch and many others are Eoin Colfers. I am merely borrowing.

Any hatrid of my version of Arty you can review about, but remember: A) we all have different ideas of what a character should be and B) He's going to be different, that's the very point of my story. SMART PEOPLE ARE CRAZY.

Thank you, please review.

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The situation very much reminded her of their first meeting. _"It was in February, wasn't it? In the hotel with dark green wallpaper. The place was like a cave."_

Artemis sat in a high backed swivel chair, facing the large canvas hung behind the desk. Her heart dropped to see that particular canvas had once been hers'. Since settling in the big city across the pond, Sophie had strived to achieve her life-long dream. Her paintings sold like mad to the rich who had a taste for the more classical, symbolic art rather than the abstract or impressionism (though truth be told, she like both styles herself, as well as cubism, but never had the geometry skills to make success in the latter). Or, they sold like mad when she actually got around to finishing and displaying them. The classical subjects, life-like expressions and soft strokes quickly won the art world's heart, or at least the art world in New York.

Still, she had buyers from all over, or so the gallery directors claimed. She was far too absent-minded to be allowed to actually market her work herself, so there went a nice percent to not only the galleries, but also manager. Whatever money she lost, it was fair to say she did get more business with him then without him. Her manager and the gallery directors of sales typically got along harmoniously, and usually got her a more than fair price.

"_Persephone in the Deep" _was one of her most favourites. It took weeks for her to get it to her absolute standard of perfection that was required for any of the Iver works to leave her studio be fulfill in this piece. Each dab of colour had been analyzed severely, seen from all perspectives, in all lighting. _"Persephone" _was her baby. Her Mona Lisa. Her Venus. Her Titanic.

Unfortunately, she never had the chance to meet the buyer. It had been displayed for a number of weeks in a quaint downtown gallery, where nobody with real appreciation would see. Apparently someone had, because she received a call shortly before it was to be shipped back to her. A foreign art lover had seen the piece over the internet and "fell in love" with it instantly. Her manager, knowing just how much that painting meant to her, hesitated before naming a starting price. The man at the other end of the phone listened quietly and proposed a _higher _bid.

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Marvin, Sophie's shopping pal and sometimes-manager (on the rare chances that she actually sold something rather than donated), stuttered into the handheld, gripping the arm of his designer computer chair (he had other customers besides the Iver girls, thank God, else he couldn't fulfill his fine tastes). "F-_f_-_fifteen hundred thousand? _Sir, this is a complement indeed, but Ms. Iver would never-"

"I'm certain Ms. Iver will not know the price of her own work. She'll assume you managed to wheedle a good deal." The voice on the other end said calmly. He was fully confident. "If I know her at all, she'll not think about it twice unless you illuminate upon it, and I'm sure you would not risk such a business opportunity in doing so."

"_That is a familiar voice." _Marvin thought. Soft, obviously Irish. With the doubling in price it surely must be a friend from Sophie's home country. She didn't speak of her home nation often, and never once mentioned anybody, not even family. Could this be a relative? A friend? Her fiancé? He knew she had been briefly engaged shortly before moving to New York, but he knew none of the details. He wasn't even sure the man was Irish, he'd just assumed. He could have easily been British, Scottish, or anything else. But this surely couldn't be—just because someone claimed to know Sophie and happened to have an Irish accent did not qualify them to be her ex.

"So, you know Sophie?" Marvin asked casually. "How? She never mentioned any family across the pond."

"I am not family." the voice replied curtly. "Merely a friend and admirer of her work. Now, are you settled with 15 hundred?"

"I-I'll have to consult with the gallery-"

"Let me know. You have my number, sir. Please do not mention this to Ms. Iver. It's a surprise."

The line went dead with the familiar tone. Marvin set the phone back in the charger. He was a little concerned. Not many people knew Sophie. She adored her privacy. She had few friends, a very small family which was mainly distant, and did not trust easily anyone. He wouldn't use as strong of a word as paranoia to describe her actions, but she had some tendencies…he joked that she could hire herself as a spy, she was so thorough. A nameless stranger calls saying he wants to buy one of her most beloved works, and _double _the starting price, then claims to know her. Know her very well, from the sounds of it.

Could it be her ex? He suspected the man had been very controlling, one who keep her on a leash and that left Sophia forever rebellious. The man on the other in of the phone, and ocean away (so said his secretary) had been very much in control, very use to it as well. He hadn't even been excited enough to sound cocky, though perhaps bored. Bored by the averageness Marvin did nothing to hid.

Sophie never dated, ever, something Marvin blamed on the previous experience. She didn't ever appear interested. _"Well, that's not completely true."_ Three years ago, shortly before she left for one of her month-long vacation, she had dated a pleasant fellow. He was an English professor at some college, sweet to her and cute, as both Marvin and Sophie agreed. For a while she was cheerful, as darling as she was when Marvin first met her.

It was strange too; normally she was melancholy toward this time of year, dreading something. Marvin suspected it had to do with her 4 weeks off, but that made no sense. Four weeks of the year all to herself, with not even Ella along, many would kill for the pleasure. Yet his particular friend became more nervous and unhappy each year as the time grew near. She was jumpy, and lost weight.

Anyhow, the professor. Sophie called Marvin the night before her flight, sounding very scared.

"If I come back and dump John," (for that was the professor's name, John) "please don't bother me about it."

She sounded on the verge of tears. Marvin did his best.

"Sophie, baby, what's up? You're really into Johnny, why would you just drop him like that?"

"I told you not to ask!" she snapped. Then scattered murmurs: "What a mistake….of course he'll know."

"I'm not suppose to ask when you come back," Marvin pointed out, but she didn't laugh. She didn't laugh for a long time after that, both before and after her trip. Upon arriving Marvin found her pale and sallow, sickly and nervous. Sophie did break up with John less than a week after her return, but they never spoke of it.

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This explained why she'd never met the buyer. Normally the people who purchased her work wanted to meet her and have her sign something or other. Artemis just had to wait a few months and she'd sign anything he wanted her to sign.

"_I need to be more involved with sales." _she internally groaned. _"Definitely more involved."_

After having her 30-second pity party, she turned her attention to the painting.

Persephone walked in the dark catacombs of the Underworld, clad in a Grecian gown of such a faint pink as to be nearly white, a golden glow around her. Flowers and other plant life made a path of her former steps in the stone. Hades, tall, dark-haired, pale with stormy eyes and his own shadowy expression seemed to cast darkness around himself, the opposite of her. Clasping Persephone's delicate hand in his own slim pale one he gazed at her with mixes of want, love, and tenderness.

While it might have truly been nothing more than a myth-inspired work of art, to certain persons in the Fowl household, Lord Hades eerily represented their young master. Persephone echoed Sophie Iver just as easily.

Sophie honestly had not meant to paint the two characters with personal similarities to herself or Artemis. In all truth, it had been an accident. But undoubtedly not to Artemis. Perhaps represented her side of the story? Of course, that would be why he had made the purchase. It well represented their situation. She was reflected in the face of the Lady of the Underworld. _"Not to be an ego mantic or anything…"_

Giving a deep internal sigh, Sophie tried to think positive thoughts, like "_At least I know it's being cared for properly."_

The chair suddenly flung around to face her, reveling Artemis Fowl and a decent amount of surprise. The surprise of all Sophia's—Artemis had changed an incredible amount since her last visit. Weight loss, salt-and-pepper hair and crow's feet on the corners of his eyes. His mouth was set grimly, as though it naturally retained that expression on a daily basis. _"Well, that's better than the vampire smile. Not much better, though." _The mismatched eyes were cold and dull. His pale skin had reached a new extreme; a white so pure and blank, with less colour than a corpse. The computer lights had bleached it to a copy paper pale. _"Surely he must be taking supplements? Vitamin D caplets?" _Gaunt and hard, this was not the Artemis Sophie wanted to ever remember. He'd stayed the same for the last 7 years, why the drastic change now?

Then he smiled. The rock that were his eyes became bright, his entire face turning years younger. Traces of "Arty" were visible, yet he still looked ill.

The next thing to shock was his greeting.

"Sophie." He said, voice soft, commanding, hoarse, utterly frightening. He sounded like a man on this death bed, minus the frailness usually accompanied by such a voice. Simple as the hello was, it set Sophia trembling slightly as she returned it.

"Artemis." Her voice was equally quiet. If it were anyone else she would have bowed her head in respect, but Artemis took that as a sign of weakness, submission, so she was restrained to lower her gaze. "How are you, my friend?"

She often kept thing casual, calling him simply "my friend" or "Artemis", never "Arty", asking how he fared, how his parents were, et cetera. Long ago she found saying anything resembling "I've missed you" was not only unkind but also pointless. They both knew they missed each other, regardless what was said. Sophie contented herself to smiling, waiting.

Carefully, Artemis stood, crossing to stand in front of his desk, still all smiles, though they had faded slightly at her own hello. He leaned on the ebony wood, one hand in his pants pocket, unordinary casual. "I have been well. Content."

Had his eyes grown darker? Whatever it was, Sophie didn't like the way they bore into hers, glinting slightly. "Good. Yes, very good. Um, how's the company?"

"_You mean the one you could have co-owned had you stayed?" _The voice, snide and sharp, was familiar to Artemis's six years ago when he offered the position of Assistant CEO. In exchange, she would have to move back into the country, possibly even into the city, where he could reach her when she was needed. Sophie was honestly appalled by the transparent tactics. But Artemis had not been so sane in those years.

"Well. It is well." He kept a constant eye contact. They were darker, his eyes.

"And your own career?" He inquired, all host's politeness and obligation.

"Ah, you know how the art world is." Sophie replied, shifting to cross legs, putting one hand over the over to rest on her knees. "I have a part time employment designing for this middle income jewelry company. It doesn't give me too many hours, but it keeps me occupied, and stimulates my muse."

"Part time?" Artemis's voice darkened. He thought the state of her income wasn't what it should be, what it could be, and became more than a little disagreeable when the subject was brought up by either of them.

"Not like that!" Sophie said hastily. "It's more of a hobby than an actual _job_. We—I'm fine. There's far more than enough in the bank. I swear, Artemis—and you didn't need to pay for any of this."

"I wanted to, Sophia." He used her full first name, pronouncing it in that irking way he always did when was frustrated with her.

"But it's like a vacation-"

"As it should be." He cut in calmly.

"That's not what I meant. I should at least pay for my flight, really."

"I'll let you pay for your on-flight pillow." Artemis said shortly. "And nothing more. It is a pleasure having you—" And his expression completely agreed with this statement. "----I am the one insisting you come, I shall happily pay any expensive. You're a guest. Now, you are in your usual room-"

"_Do not dismiss me!" _Sophie hissed. "You egotistical jerk! I am not-"

"Sophia, you cannot expect-"

"I can! You _cannot_ presume to tell me to expect or do anything, you lost that right long ago, sir."

"You're acting childish."

"Childish?!" They were yelling now. "Me? Oh no, you're the one pouting, acting king of the rock insisting I cannot

do or that!"

"Sophie!"

Furious, she stood, hands tightening to fists. "_Artemis." _It came out a snarl. Artemis followed suit, pushing himself from the desk with the palms of his hands. The stood nose to nose (though Ms. Iver had to strain her neck a little for it to be that way), scowl parallel, angry breaths in sync. In unison they shouted so loud as to not hear each other's words, or even their own for the most part. It became a loud jumbled mess with profanities on Sophie's side and Artemis swearing in French. Both of them made dramatic gesture, waving their arms about, pointing, jabbing. Artemis had just caught her hand when Juliet opened the door.

"Artemis?" she asked slowly. The pair halted promptly at the sound. Face glowing, Sophie brushed a strand of loose hair from her face, Artemis hand following as it was still attached to her wrist. He, too, was slightly shame-faced but regained his usual cold air with ease.

"Yes, Juliet."

"I heard screaming," she said boldly. Her eyes focused on the clasped hands and a single blond brow rose. Artemis glared briefly at their connected limbs, dropped it in disgust (disgust more so in his own lack of control) and stated coolly:

"Ms. Iver and I were having an argument. Thank you for your concern, Juliet. Now, kindly leave us."

Stung, Juliet gritted her teeth. She left, but not without first looking Sophie over thoroughly.

Shaking her head, the young woman involved in the argument returned to her seat. Artemis followed, settling back into his designer swivel across from her. Needless to say, they were both thankful for the meter and a half of wood between them.

Sophie was first to speak, cradling her head in her hands. "I can't believe this."

There was a pause.

She continued, pleased to be uninterrupted. "We're suppose to be friends, getting along. At the very least civil. Not jumping at each other's throats every time we disagree. Five minutes after greeting each other after a year of radio silence, no less. Gods, we're disgraceful."

Artemis quite agreed. "We only have a month. It is a waste to spend it in conflict." _But we eventually need to discuss your finances. _

"Right." Sophie became hasty now, eager to leave the room, get out of his sight. Sometimes she felt they could read the other's mind and motives clearly. Her's had barely changed over of the years; what it boiled down to was _"Get it over with, get it over with, get out, get out, get out"._ Her host's on the other hand went from the simple Venus Fly Trap to a more complex want of control to achieve the desired results. Result which now seemed to have also been altered through time.

"So, my room is in the usual spot, is it?" she inquired in an uncaring voice. "3rd floor corridor, dark wood door with green glass handle?"

"Hm, yes. We've done renovations. You have a flat screen that doubles as a computer, and the deck has retractable awning."

"Way to dignify the house." Sophia murmured. Artemis gave his vampire smile.

"It's in the period style." He replied. She huffed and stood to leave. Her bags had already been brought up the room, but she still carried her carry-on item from the plane. It was filled with two extra sets of clothes, hygiene items, money to take her as far as China, some jewelry items, a cell phone, and maps. Not a pack in case her luggage was misplace, rather, an escape route in a bag. It wouldn't be unpacked for the duration of her visit.

"Thank you." It was sincere. "I'll go…freshen up. See you at dinner?"

"Sooner, actually." Artemis said quietly, not looking at her. He met her inquiring glance. _Clever thing, knows there's something more. _"I've reduced my schedule; I'll still be working, but less then three hours a day."

"Why would you do that?" Sophie's voice was higher pitched, slightly robotic in tone. It was tradition that they avoid one another during her month's stay. Artemis might change his routine to eat an occasional meal with her, give her a tour of some place or other, perhaps spend an hour with her just reading across from one another in the Fowl's vast library. He didn't stop going to work, he didn't take out entire days to anyone's fancy. It just wasn't done. Angeline and Timmy were the ones who entertained her when she wasn't by the pool with Juliet (there was a new sunroom/indoor pool the Fowls' had inserted three years after she'd left, and Sophie was more than welcome to it). For her month's worth of a stay she saw the Fowl employees far more than their master! And she liked it that way! Artemis might be near and dear to her heart, but the man was a huge pain when you were on his bad side. Which was directly where she had been for some years.

"I want to see you, Sophia." There he went again, saying her name in that awful way, pronouncing it slowly and clearly. "_Bloody annoying…"_ "I take an entire year to arrange your stay and rarely get it enjoy it."

"_Liar." _He subconsciously like have control over her schedule and she knew it.

"Alright. I'll see you…before dinner, then."

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**As we can see, shortly after meeting they are already in a shouting match. Yeah, totally sweet couple, right? But if they'd stayed together they wouldn't have been like this. We hope. **

**Marvin will show up again. He wasn't planned, but I quite like him. **

**Please review! I'm trying to post a few up before Christmas, and motivation would simply rock. **

**Another thing: I just joined this play at my school and we basically have practice everyday, from like, 5 to 9. Any spare time I have is going bye-bye because it's all going to homework. I'll still write in my notebook, which does equal progress…but I might not have a decent post until late February. **


	3. The More Things Change

**What the Voices Cry**

**By Morbid DramaQueen10, AKA Dania**

Chapter 3 The more things change…

**DISCLAIMER:** Arty isn't mine. Sophie is, Sasha is, Marvin is. Ella is too.

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Sophia's first three days were relatively uneventful. She slept in late, had breakfast on the balcony with Juliet, emailed her friends, hung around the pool, ate lunch with Artemis, went to the library, took a walk in the garden, had dinner with Artemis, argued with Artemis, had a nice glass of some alcoholic beverage, and then went to bed. It was a schedule very similar to the one she kept back when she lived at Fowl Manor full time. On the fourth morning Artemis woke her up early to drag her to see the Book of Kells. Another time he escorted her to the city to look at a gallery opening. Apart from that, their contact was reserved for meals and sitting across from one another reading in the library on special afternoons. Sophie did everything with in her power to avoid these field trips and "togetherness time" and failed miserably. When it got to the point where he invited himself to her garden walks, she knew that drastic measures must be taken.

Before any plans could be laid however, Artemis introduced a new form of torture: He was going to take her to the opening night of his rock opera.

As much as she groaned to Juliet, as many excuses she made, it was not to be dodged. Artemis merely smiled when she claimed an awful headache, and told her it would be reschedules to another night. She had not counted in the entire production's opening night being moved.

"The premiere can wait." His vampire smile more pronounced than usual. "Besides the actors could use a day to rest their vocal cords."

The next night she went without fuss, save a slight scowl that remained on her features whenever Artemis glanced her way.

She had planned to watch it when it came to the Met. She had wanted to see it. She hadn't wanted to see it on the arm of Artemis Fowl the Second, with cameras flashing in her face. How would it appear to people? That they were dating? Surely the media had forgotten their tryst of eight years ago. After all, Tara Gavin wasn't supposed to be… she'd lightened her hair since then, they couldn't possibly…

Artemis had her tied and he knew it, too. Was it his wish to humiliate her all throughout her stay? Next he would be dictating what she wore. _"Prat."_ There was no use to fighting tonight, anyhow. She needed to get ready.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

Since it was an Opera, and a premiere at that, Sophie had to dress formally. Had she brought any formal wear? _"No, of course not. That would be too convenient, wouldn't it Artemis?" _She had forgotten how much he liked to buy her things. Useless things, like designer totes and Jimmy Choo sandals. Parada accessories, Tiffany and De Beers Jewelry. And now he wanted to get her an original Vera Wang opera gown.

Correction: He _gotten _her an original Vera Wang opera gown.

Sophie hadn't even known Vera Wang made opera gowns. She didn't honestly care either way. It was a very nice dress, still. But she didn't want to wear it. Not for anyone.

"Sophia!" Artemis stood directly outside of her door, peering at his watch. They need to be in the city within twenty minutes, or they'll never make it. He suspected she might try to sabotage the event yet again by taking forever to dress. It was a female thing Angeline Fowl often did to her son and husband when she was displeased with either of them.

"_There he goes again." _There had been at time when Sophie loved the way Artemis said her name. But he did it all the time now, with command and control stressed in every letter. When he said it like that on special occasions it had made her feel better, like she wasn't trying to scam him out of a few million. Now she just wanted to scream at him to _stop! _

"Sophie, we need to go." He knocked lightly on the wood, waiting for a muffled reply.

Sophia stood over her gigantic bed, examining the dress Artemis had sent up two days ago. It was wine coloured, sweeping silk with some net "wings" that hung from off the clip on the base of her neck, where the zipper was, to attach to her wrists. Sleeveless, with deep "v" neckline that showed the curve of her breasts. The fabric hung on her frame nicely. Sequence made vines and patterns on the bottom hem. Pearls had been sent up from Angeline's own collection, including a sapphire pendant with a stone the same blue as Artemis's eyes.

Looking closer, she saw it was a diamond, not a sapphire. Sophie jumped back. The Fei Fei diamond. _"Looks like someone else had been doing their share of jewelry thievery." _But how was that possible? It had been missing since…well, over twenty years ago. Artemis would've been just out of grade school! Between eleven and fourteen. Regardless, she wasn't wearing it. It did not match the equally bold gown's red tones.

She turned to the door. "Artemis," she called wearily. "Give me a moment." All that was left was the dress and jewelry, her hair and makeup was finished. Glaring at the silk masterpiece, Sophie slipped into it, and then cursed silently. Of course she couldn't zip it up all the way. Oh, why did she dismiss Juliet so early? Now the only resort was to ask _him _to finish zipping it. _"Damn."_

"Artemis?" Her arms where on her back, trying to pull the stupid piece of metal up further on her back. Useless. She would need his help.

Of course he jumped on it right away. "Yes, Sophia?"

"I—"_I can't believe this. _"I need you to, um…zip me up."

"Ah." The hoarse voice gave what sounded close to a chuckle. "Are you ready?" His hand rested on the doorknob, turning it lightly. From in her room Sophie saw the motion and shrieked.

"No! No, I'm not, gimme a minute!" She scrambled to place in earrings and clasp her layered pearl choker. Running to the mirror she looked over her reflection once more, smoothed the two or three artfully loose curls, and practiced smiling. For sure, it would be needed_. "Just picture the best thing in the world…El-"_

Her thought was cut off by Artemis clearing his throat. Apparently he couldn't wait to help her, and now stood in the threshold, looking dazed and sheepish. Sophie's eyes widened, then narrowed with her frown. "You coulda warned me."

He, of course, ignored the comment. Instead for snidely reply as she would have, he crossed to stand behind her. Pressing one hand to her shoulder blade as though to balance himself, he took the opposite hand and began to zip unhurriedly. Sophie could feel his breath on her neck and restrained a shiver. He would just like that too much. Finally, Artemis finished and stepped back, but his hand lingered at the base of her neck, right were the zipper finished it journey up the metal teeth road. Tempted, he caressed the patch of skin lightly. His guest had to try very hard to keep from gasping and getting some nasty whiplash. _"Jerk."_

"Ready?"

"Um…yeah. I'm ready." She tugged her cloak (the only appropriate form of a jacket for such an event) off the bed and followed him out the door.

Upon arriving, Sophia found that they had arrived an hour early to great guests. Understandably, as the producer and writer Artemis would grab the chance to gloat. Or rather, humiliate her. She had to stand beside him and shake hands. What was it she had told her father? _"I'll never marry a politician." _Apparently being in the inner circle of a very socially active billionaire was just as bad.

When the performance finally began, she was in a private box that was expressly her host's. Luckily, Juliet had accompanied them, so she wasn't completely alone. True, the bodyguard had to stand in the very back of the box, separated from them by a heavy red velvet curtain, but at the very least she was _there._

The performance itself was very good. Not only were the actors in top form, delivering the lines and songs with the perfect freshness, but the dialogue was witty and intelligent too. After a time Sophie forgot to be tense and instead laughed along with the other viewers. In the intermission she stayed put while Artemis excused himself to take a call. It was a nice time to ponder the plot and the setting. The backdrop, props and costumes all echoed the fantasy world seen in the stage production of _Peter Pan._ Curious. Iridescent tones, watercolour-worthy scenes, everything dreamy. Kind of like a _Midsummer Night _or a fairy tale. Whatever it was, she liked it a lot. Putting on the stupid dress for Artemis was worth it.

Artemis came back and the show proceeded. The end scene intrigued her the most, even more than the set. Obsidian and Drace, the two main characters, were standing on the edge of destruction. One could live, one could die. They had to make a choice. Either they both died, or one could survive. Perhaps they could both make it out; the narration hinted as much. But the audience would never know. The curtain fell and the orchestra stopped before a proper solution could be reveled. A _Lady and the Tiger _sort of ending.

Sophie liked it. She was never one to hate a movie or play just because it had an unsettling ending. To her it wasn't a bad one at all—the two characters were highly intelligent, they could certainly figure it out. Wouldn't they?

On the way home she asked Artemis what happened. His reply was a question.

"What do you think happened?"

She was ready for that. "I think they found a way out. I think they relied on one another too much to do the right thing and that's how they landed up in the situation but in the end they know each other and each other's strengths enough to get out. When two people have enough intelligence and will power they can get out of anything."

Artemis looked out at her from the top of his program. "Do you really believe that?"

In horror, Sophie realized just what she had said. _"Gods, the little prat he totally just-" _

She leveled her gaze. "If they have enough will power."

No need to try and bruise his intellect. There was honestly no point in trying; nobody could deny his supreme brilliance.

From then one the drive was silent. Artemis to his program, Sophia to staring out the window. Just like old times.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

In the intermission, when Sophie was mentally organizing the production, Artemis took a call that had been on hold for thirty minutes. He grimaced as he flipped open the cell. The caller was across the ocean, and he hated to see the price for a 45-minute transatlantic call. But the great Artemis Fowl the Second did not chastise the person on the other end, he needed him too much.

The moment his ear hit the device the man began talking quickly.

"_I got the jet scheduled for that night. You have the tents, the gear, everything waiting for you in the terminal. When you get to the foothills you've got a night's rest in some hut, but after that its hard to reach anyone, so you'll have to rely on the hired man. He can get you to safe night stops."_

"How long will the plane wait?" Artemis asked, checking his watch, this waving to another opera goer who had spotted him behind the marble column.

"_Until dawn, Mr. Fowl. Any longer after that, they'll change ports and you'll be paying night's fee and extra."_

"What is your excuse for if she is restrained?"

"_There is no excuse, Mr. Fowl. No questions asked." _

"Good. Can I be assured that this will run smoothly, Mr. Bellisaurio?"

"_More than an assurance, Mr. Fowl. A guarantee." _

"Exactly what I wanted to hear, sir. You may commence. Tell Minerva hello, for me."

"_Of course, Mr. Fowl."_

"_Click" _

Artemis closed the phone with a light snap and stepped away from the cold stone column. The show was about to start and he did not want Sophia alone for too long. He motioned the glaring Juliet to follow. Such good news had not been heard for a long time, so Artemis took the stairs two at a time. He had some more planning to do, and who was not better at it than Artemis Fowl the Second?

**XXXXXXXXXXX**

Sophia was a little more than appalled by the announcement at dinner two nights after the previous event. Artemis wasn't sure what nonverbal form of communication clued him in on this, the slamming her silver wear onto the table with great force or the tremendous glare she sent him.

"A Gala Ball?" She snarled. It had not been a good day. Juliet was gone, as it was her day off. Without the bodyguard's reinforcement, Sophie had been high jacked into spending the entire day with her host._ "Here? Tomorrow?_ And you didn't tell me? WHAT AM I GOING TO _WEAR?! _"

"I'm sure we have something suitable." Artemis said calmly. "Yes, it is here, yes it is tomorrow, and yes you will be acting as surrogate hostess, seeing as my mother is unable to attend. "

"What is it even _for_?" "_Probably something stupid, like celebrating his success in the industry._ "

"The annual Fowl Industries Gala." Artemis had a look of smugness about his features. _"Why am I not surprised?" _

"Annual? Then why is it just happening now? In July?"

He looked uncomfortable. "It had to be postponed from its normal date in January. This was the only free time."

"I have plans that night."

"I control your social calendar."

"I'll be ill that night, I'm sure."

"I will call for a doctor four hours before it need be."

"You can't spring this on me just now! You should've told me a week ago, when I could've gotten a dress in time. We were in the city on Thursday, you couldn't have told me then?"

He was silent. She gritted her teeth and leaned across the table. "You already have a dress for me, _don't you_?" Sophie growled. _"He's been planning this for a while now."_

It really confused her. There was an objective, a prize, she could see that much, but what it could possibly be and how it could be obtained through a pre-ordered dress…there she was at a loss. One could see the bold line and hear the phrase "_pick out the one thing that does not belong in this picture". _The problem was simple: Sophie couldn't pick out what didn't belong. What details were significant evidence and what details were unnecessary?

"I won't go."

"You will go, you have no other obligations. As my guest you should offer your services when the host is in need of them."

She chose to ignore the possible alternative meanings. "If Artemis you want me to, say, wash dishes I would happily oblige you. That would be a service. Greeting some yuppie investors is not a service, it is agony. As a guest in this household _you_ should oblige _me._ "

"Sophie, humor me."

"No. Not for yet another publicity stunt."

"This is not a stunt, this is a company event."

"Tara Gavin is supposed to be dead!"

Artemis winced. They never said the name. Ever. "You shall be Sophie Iver. To those that knew you previously, they will think the media was wrong or will have not heard the news. Conveniently. And I plan for you to look nothing like your self. Makeup can do wonders."

"I refuse to go."

"You shall sulk in your room all evening, then? Alone? Juliet will be downstairs, and quite occupied for the entire day. Possibly for the rest of your stay, as well."

The threat was all too evident. Her scowl was enough to make Artemis more than a little apprehensive about casting it. He remained firm, staring her down.

"I'm not a child. You cannot just take away my favourite toy to spite me or play dress up with me. Designer gowns they may be, but that does not stop the fact that I am forced into them." She said when he opened his mouth. "Stop being so damn controlling, Art-…Artemis!"

"_Stumbling, are we?"_

"Come to the Gala."

"Not on your life-"

"Which I know you don't value." He cut across smoothly. "I swear to you if you come that I will not force you into another public event for the rest of your stay."

"No, ever. Never another publicity show. _Ever._"

"For the next two visits." Artemis negotiated. "Two years, promise Sophie. If anyone recognizes you I'll up it to five. And no give hints." He warned, knowing her sly nature.

Sophie hesitated. Artemis had something planned, but it might not be anything involving her. He could be doing it solely for some arm candy, or just to show her some entertainment. Really, this year he had been just trying to show her a good time with the rock opera, museum visits, field trips, spending time together. Perhaps he just wanted their friendship back.

"_Do you really believe that?" _Her sister asked, disbelief tinged in her tone.

Sophie gave a mental snort. _"No. Hell no."_

But he had her cornered. Yet again. There was no way out of this, not if she wanted to stay sane over the coming days. Time with the lighthearted Butler girl was what kept her grounded on these visits, though she doubted Artemis looked that deep into the relationship. He probably did not care; rather, just saw it as a way to manipulate either party.

"Fine."

"The first two dances are for me." He winked and stood to leave. Her howls could be heard from the hallway.

"_There's going to be DANCING?!" _

Artemis chuckled as he climbed the stairs to his study. Neither of them had changed too much, had they? That was fine for him, he already loved her just the way she was, the way she had been eight years ago. He couldn't stand her aloof manner. Thank the gods he was making progress. If frustrating her to the edge of pure, hot anger was what it took he would gladly take the task on a daily routine.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Whaddya think? I like this chappy, it's full of stuff you'll need later. Details, details people. **

**I hope everyone is having a great holiday. I certainly did. I could use some more reviews, though, if anyone wanted to give me a present…(that was, in fact, a HINT). **

**The rock opera storyline may be reveled in time, but I'll just explain the style and setting. Think water colour metallic Original Peter Pan (like the one in "Finding Neverland"). Think fantasy. Very white and pastel and glitter makeup, costumes with dresses like flower petals, et cetera. **

**~Dania **


	4. Unknown Plans,Unplanned Kisses

**What the Voices Cry**

**By Morbid DramaQueen10 A.K.A Dania**

Chapter 4, Unknow Plans, Unplanned kisses

**DISCLAIMER/CLAIMER: Artemis, Butler, Angeline and Timmy, Juliet and Minerva are all Eoin Colfer's. Sophia, Sasha, Ella, Marvin, and everyone else are MINE! As are Drace and Obsidian. **

**I actually started writing this before I finished Chapter 1, or anything else posted. I knew it was going to be a long one…**

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

She couldn't think of hating anything more. Well, perhaps the persons who forced her into this. And the designer. _He _must have designed it himself, as a cruel joke. No matter what anyone had said, it was plainly obvious _He _wanted to remind her of who _He _was, what _He _could do, and just how easily _He _could do it. How powerless she was.

_Arse._

Once a year she had to endure the eyes, the smirk, the infuriating perfection of everything she'd given up. Ditched. Dumped. Thrown away. Any number of breakup terms could be used on the situation, yet none of them covered the complicated event. But there wasn't a sole word for it, except perhaps chaos.

So here she stood, acting like the _perfect _little hostess wearing her heartbreaker dress. It was the kind of dress a very wealthy, very vengeful woman would've worn to a public event that her ex-husband would have also attended. Or the kind of gown that a human doll would have been forced into as punishment for unspeakable crimes.

The long, form-fitting cloth would have been her first pick, something she'd undoubtedly would drool over….if it were any night but tonight. Any place but this place. For anyone but this person.

Emerald green silk, black satin conformed to show more than enough curves, a skirt that flowed out to touch the floor, a slit that went just below her hip….Artemis was taunting her. The stupid dress was designed by someone who knew her body shape well…way, way too well. Its sheer sexiness made her scared to leave her quarters. Maybe she would feint illness. Take her hair out of this ridiculous up-do and stick her head in the toilet. A little water for pseudo sweat, a can of cream of mushroom, a swift dusting of her palest powder and she'd be set.

Well, perhaps not. Juliet wouldn't fall for it. Any of it. Not that she had the chance, anyways.

She felt like a doll. A puppet. Manipulated. Artemis had hired a professional makeup artist, hairdresser, even called up a maid to aid her in dress (surprisingly, the stupid thing was extremely difficult to maneuver into by yourself. She suspected it was designed this way to prevent escape. Artemis knew her far too well). Plus Juliet and a second maid. Sophia was suffocated. The moment the troop of 5 determined women filed through the door, all hopes of escape were dashed. Without being able to do her own makeup, Sophia could not feign illness. They made her look spectacular.

_Go. _

Smoothing out the folds, she stood, gazing at her reflection in the full-length mirror across from the vanity. Red hair piled elaborately on top of her skull, carefully curled tresses hanging to lie across her shoulders and fall down her back. In the deep shadows of the room, they looked like blood dripping down slowly from her head. The heart-shaped face pale, smooth white with all flaws cover by powders and creams. Blue-green eyes lined with thin curves of kohl, framed with thick black lashes, given a smoky look by the dark shadows. Her lips were simply a cheery, glossy, curvy pink. No hair was out of place. No freckle exposed. No eyelash uncurled.

Well, her under eyelashes, the ones on the lower lip. The woman applying the mascara said if you didn't apply mascara to those, it made the eye appear bigger and stand out more.

Still. She was flawless in appearance.

How could anyone want to look like this? It was so unflawed as to be eternally imperfect.

Gritting her teeth, Sophia moved to the door, deliberately turning the brushed nickel handle and stepping into the hall. Damn, even the shoes he'd sent up were slutty. Lace-up stilettos, similar to the pair worn to that movie premiere, the night Arty invited her to move in.

Sophie trailed down the halls of Fowl Manor still in her little stupor. The sounds from the party echoed throughout the grounds. She could hear the orchestra, people laugh, talk, cars pulling up the long gravel drive, Butler's grunt of approval as he let another guest in, satisfied with their identity.

"Sophia."

She halted. Now she stood on the top of the grand staircase of the hall, looking out over the incoming guests in their fine, formal, evening wear. "_How sudden."_ The walk should have taken longer. This was disappointing.

Right at this moment as she faced the small crowd below, the one making its way out onto the pavilion to join the real party, someone in that crowd looked up, elbowed their partner, and moved one. This action continued repeatedly throughout the line of guests, not that the recipient noticed. One person out of the many just stared, mouth ever-so-slightly agape. Then he remember himself, finished shaking the nearest guest's hand, brushed off the rest and made for the long crimson stairs.

Sophia all the while just stood there, entranced one thousand miles away (or slightly less if her calculations were correct-but then she'd never been one for math). A person would have to be something absolutely dazzling to catch that one's eye, or so many in the masses below murmured. Pretty spectacular indeed.

"_Sophia."_

As though she heard him telepathically, her eyes snapped down. When her focus rested on him, body tensed with the scent of threat, part of him was deeply bothered by the hardly noticeable body stance. Another part had some sort of cruel satisfaction. Some years ago he would have banished these feelings altogether. Some months ago he wouldn't have felt them at all. Now they consumed him.

"Sophie." He said again, eyes sweeping over her.

With his examination Sophie straightened sharply, meeting his gaze. The blue-green orbs were on fire.

"Master Fowl." Honey dripped from the two words, hints of sarcasm like knives through the sweetness.

"You look…" Artemis swallowed, struggling for words. "…beautiful." He said finally, greatly anticipating the next comment.

"Thank you." A slight sneer curled her fresh pink lips. "I'm sure the designer had the wearer in mind. Really, you shouldn't let your guest wear your whore's hand-me-downs, Master Fowl."

It was a low shot. For as far as she knew, Artemis was still virgin and hadn't even dated anyone in the last half decade.

He scowled in return, taking the few quick steps to reach her. "The designer did have you in mind, darling." His hand shot up to grip her arm. Sophie cursed her prediction. He had been working out and she had not, something she regretted now.

As he murmured into her ear, the already dark blue of his eyes were darkening to an ocean-colour. "Keep in mind that there are over two hundred Fowl Industry employees and investors here tonight. And that your dearest sister's grave lies on this property."

She restrained a gasp. _"Gods." _This was downright cruel. The lowest of the low. Never had Artemis been so frightening, so bluntly inhumane, threatening. Of course he had already threatened to lock her up, hunt her down, take away her memories, forced her into many unpleasent situations, made her return to the 7th pit of hell, which was his home, every year, kept a constant tabs on her, et cetera. But desecrating her sister's grave? It was the deep end of a very new extreme, one that very much scared Sophie Iver.

Tucking her arm into his own, Artemis lead her down the staircase grandly, seeming to all the world a lucky man with a pretty escort. Under his grip she quivered. He could feel the quaking through the fabric of his Armani tux. And he savored it.

Leaning in to brush a tendril of auburn away from her neck, Artemis Fowl the Second fully enjoyed complete control of one person whom he had never so fully manipulated before.

**XXXXXXXXXXXX**

"_Eventually he will grow weary of this." _Sophia thought as she grasped yet another yuppie's palm in her own, smiling with gracious charm. A few made the mistake of addressing her as "Mrs. Fowl". She made to protest the first couple times, but Artemis moved to stop her, placing a gentle hand on her arm and smiling that vampire smile, assuring the offender. Now whenever an elderly patron commented on "such a lovely couple", Sophia's hold tightened for an instant and then released. Nothing was so humiliating.

Finally Artemis released her to go chat up some businessmen. She escaped to the dance floor and dining hall, mingling, darting and avoiding contact. Some offered their company, but she simply smiled politely and moved away.

Angeline and Timmy had not made an appearance since her arrival. She found, without surprise, that she missed hem. They would've kept her company and their son from being so domineering. When thinking about it, Sophie was shocked to realize that she had seen neither of them since two years previous, when she had met Angeline for a quick lunch back in the city. Mrs. Fowl had been in town with Timmy. While he was busy in some meeting, she browsed the city's art world, hoping for some find. Luckily, in the second store she perused she found an old acquaintance. Tara Gavin! Stumbling over her words, Sophie explained the name change in relating to some crazing family member who was currently in a state prison. They did lunch, and hadn't seen each other since. Sophie suspected Artemis convinced his parents to go on unusually extended vacations in July, telling them they would return in time to catch "Darling Tara" before she escaped back to America.

When she was off wandering by a bed of roses, someone who actually knew her approached her suddenly.

"Miss Gavin. Or, Iver, should I say. Excuse me." A soft, clipped voice said lightly from behind her. Sophie froze at the sound of her pseudonym, turning very, very slowly.

"Mrs. Hill." She said cautiously. The last time she had seen this prim woman was shortly before Artemis proposed…the first time, that is. From the sound of it she had been fed a similar story as Angeline Fowl. " It's Iver, now, quite right. Nice to see you again. I trust you're doing well?"

"_Rule one: Draw the attention away from yourself; most people like to talk about their lives, so start with that."_

"Fine, thanks. And your self, Miss Ga-I mean, Iver? My, I haven't seen you in nearly a decade"

"Eight years." Sophie said before could hold her tongue. Hill blinked.

"Oh. Right…well, it's a pleasure having you back in town. Been traveling, have you?"

Artemis had been casting some tales, hadn't he? She could see it in the other woman's eye—she was wondering about the broken engagement, the name change. Sophie considered address the topics herself, at least the first one, but waited instead. If Hill asked straight out then she was a gossip or liked to poke in her employer's affairs far too much for Sophie's liking. It was true to Sophie's faith in Artemis to believe he would never hire such a person as a secretary. Still…she was taking no chances. She could contradict something previous laid out to the woman. Artemis typically had two reactions when someone made a mistake involving him: Amusement or anger. Both had nasty consequences.

"A bit." She allowed finally. "You?"

"Not really, no. Keep busy with work, you understand. Got to keep the business going smoothly and Mr. Fowl happy." The woman's chest puffed out slightly. She was proud of Fowl Industry's progress and proud of her hand in it, even if she merely took letters, calls, made copies, and fetched Earl Grey.

"Ah." Sophie said politely. "Yes, I've heard the business has done quite well-" _"Now that Arty doesn't have any distractions" _"-and has and amazing stock value. The Fowls must be very proud."

"Indeed." Mrs. Hill sniffed. "But the poor boy is overworking himself. He'll be the first Fowl to start in the industry, and the hardest working one, I'm sure. He's got one foot in the grave already, though. I've never see him so ill. He started to really deteriorate…right three years after you left, actually."

Her expression clearly told Sophie that _she,_ Sophie Iver or Tara Gavin or who ever the hell she was, was to be blamed for _her _employer's poor health. Sophie merely nodded, not willing to admit that she too knew what was causing Master Fowl's slow breakdown.

"I'm sure in due time, perhaps with the right encouragement, he might recover fully." She replied mildly.

"Oh, I'm certain of it. Mr. Fowl puts himself in a funk and pulls back easily all the time." A true statement-only it did not qualify in this matter. Five years was a long time to keep a foul mood. If anyone could overcome something as silly an juvenile as love, it should be him. Sophie did, why couldn't he?

"Have you met his friend?" Hill asked. Casually enough, but so casually Sophie heard genuine curiosity in her voice.

"Which one?"

"Ah, what was her…I'm afraid I've forgotten her name. Sophia! That was it. He calls her Sophie."

Several things crossed her mind. The first was that despite the situation, it was still funny that Hill did not know Tara Gavin had changed her first name as well as her last name. The second was to wonder if the statement had been cast to cause her some sort of jealousy or regret that this mystery woman with a Greek name was fraternizing with _her_ ex-fiancé. The idea was quite hilarious.

The idea itself lead her to wonder: would it have mattered? Would she honestly care, even become green with envy, perhaps, if Artemis were to find a real beau, a girl who actually gave him the time of day? Somebody who would adore his numerous achievements, all the good he was doing for the world, the vast knowledge, not to mention the substantial bank account?

No. No, she would not be jealous. She would be very happy for him, truly. Artemis deserved honest, real love. Sophie knew she would feel nothing but joy (and perhaps relief) when (or if) it ever occurred.

"Really? No, I've not met her, though I'm sure Artemis will introduce us soon."

"Yes, I'm sure." Hill murmured, slightly miffed.

"Is she a nice girl?" Sophie inquired, restraining a smirk.

"Hardly a girl. Perhaps a year or two beneath yourself, Miss Iver."

"Really? And is she a beauty?"

Hill reddened. "Well, I've—you see…I've only seen her once. From a distance."

"So, he's never introduced you, either?" Sophie asked, astonishment flooding her innocent face, privately taking glee from torturing this nosey woman.

"No, he has not!"

"My, my. Artemis is losing those genteel manners, isn't he? The modern world is changing tradition."

They both remained silent after this final comment. Hill stared at Sophie, Sophie looked at the roses. Finally Hill sighed and departed with a quiet "good-bye". Sophia relaxed. In general, she had liked the woman. But she was just so involved with her Master's life…his likes, dislikes, preferences in colour and clothing, style, personal history…anyone who stood between her Master and his ultimate happiness was put on her list forever. Sophie had a feeling she wasn't on the list primarily because she was what would bring Master Fowl that ultimate happiness, or so Hill and Artemis thought.

"_Speak of the Devil." _

She had turned in horror to see Artemis scaling the dance floor, blue eyes narrowed. He was looking for someone, obviously, most likely his date. Didn't he warn her he'd expect a waltz or two.

"_Choices?" _

"_Are you sure you want to leave?" _The voice asked.

"_Yes." _She mentally snapped. _"Choices?"_

There was a sigh, then it spoke again.

" _A) Stay in place, he might not see you."_

"_In this dress?"_

"_B) Disappear in the masses"_

"_Again, I point out the one troubling factor: the stupid gown."_

"_C) Fling yourself into the rose bushes."_

It was her favourite out of the three options, but very immature for someone nearly thirty and virtually impossible as well. Especially with the dress. _"It always comes down to the clothing."_

So she took option "B", turning and gliding to a cluster of younger people, all chatting. She scooted in, smiling and nodding, winking at an occasional stare. As it turned out, a hand had followed her into the crowd. Dancing on her fingertips, then grasping her wrist firmly, she was being pulled back. _"Damn." _The texture and temperature were unmistakable. Artemis had found her in only 42 seconds of beginning his search. Amazing. Well, it was his party, after all.

The inevitable pull tugged at her arm, which felt numb, devoid of feeling or warmth. And then they were face to face.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

His plan had been to ambush her. While she stood examining the roses, he searched the masses. When he finally found the young woman, Artemis relaxed more then he had all evening. Instead of hurrying to catch her, he stayed put, taking in her serene expression as she looked over the blushing flowers. Conscious meditation. Sophie had a means of taking her mind and worries off her view through meditating at random and at will. It was a special kind, one that kept her conscious in the present, undistracted on both horizons.

Then she moved hastily into the crowd of younger investors.

Artemis groaned. The "kids" were his most irritating group of clients. Instead of clearly not about caring about their money or who dealt with it, as some others made painfully clear, the were not only interested, but concerned and untrusting. This newest generation was a nightmare in and of itself. Raised from the middle classes, they were enjoying their newfound wealth. When they were bored with discussing stock value and market fluxes, they pulled out stuffed wallets. Not to shell out pounds to shut him up, rather to show family photos and tell stories of their "quirky" kids.

He restrained himself, nodding in the right places, vampire smile flashing. Finally, when they finished their ramblings, breathlessly they inquired about his family.

"Do you have any children?"

"No." he always replied curtly. "I've not had the fortune."

And he hadn't. But he wanted it, wanted to carry the Fowl name on further. He wanted it so terribly, as did his ageing parents.

There was only one person he would want to have that experience with. She was neither inclined nor eager to even consider. She never had truly been.

"_Ah!" _He smiled, triumphant. Her moon-pale wrist was in his hand. He pulled and a moment later Sophie was stumbling before him. Her hands were balled up into fists and her glare was contagious. He returned the scowl.

"You could've just called me." She murmured, using her only free arm to tug at the bodice of her gown. Artemis didn't grace the comment with a reply, just took her other hand to slowly guide them toward the dance floor. Arching a brow, Sophie protested lightly.

"We are both full knowledgeable on the extent of my handicap." She pursed her lips, but didn't pull away. "Do you remember the last time we dance?"

"Together?"

Her response was to roll her smoky eyes. "No, with the flowers."

"You weren't—were not—that terrible of a partner. My feet were a little numb afterward, put apart from that."

Sophie scowled even more deeply to keep from giggling, then lifted her left stiletto over his shoe. Before she could stab him with her designer footwear, Artemis slid his foot away carefully and wrapped around her waist and they were dancing.

"_Oh bloody hell."_

It honestly was not so awful. Still. She didn't like being so close to Artemis. It wasn't safe for either of them. He might get some more…unreasonable ideas or assumptions. Not that he wouldn't be a complete gentleman about any actions put forth. Sophie knew and trusted these facts…but still. One could never be too…

She was swung back for a dip, gritting her teeth. _"The git isn't going to make this easy." _It was not so much the movement that was the problem as it was the music and how to move. Another twirl. She was flung in and out, hitting her nose against the chest of her partner. The black, Armani-clad chest of her handsome partner. Gasping slightly, Sophie reeled back only to find her left wrist and waist back in a vise-like grip, yet again. When he pulled his hand back after an undeterminable amount of seconds, Sophie could not move. _Anything. _Her legs were frozen, as were both arms. _"Wait…"_ Only her neck and face remained movable.

Artemis's expression was carefully blank, save a small smirk of satisfaction curving his hips and playing about the corners of his eyes. An eerie reminder of his vampire nature.

**XXXXXXXXXXXX**

It had been a mere mistake that Artemis came by the blueprints for Foaly's mint-sized "Freeze-Ease" ray. Cheesy as the name was, the device was worth 100 times its weight in usefulness. The centaur had developed the tiny thing in his apprentice days, some 400-odd years ago. He had left it on file too, too sentimental to destroy it, too busy to improve his designs. However, Artemis was not in anyway _too_ busy. He saw grand potential in the tiny incapacitator had and quickly moved to copy and further develop the bug.

The genius of the little bug was in that it virtually froze the limbs of the victim while still keeping their vitals at normal rates. Through the laser the body's functions were stunned to the muscles, leaving them unable to move. Depending on the setting, the unfortunate person could still move certain body parts. For example, the beam could be focused on the upper or lower body. The face, and arm holding a gun, legs about to jump. Something like a painless, focused version of the Star Trek stunners. If released to LEP personal, it would've been a simple kind of fairy mace or stun guns.

The only objection: to "freeze" anyone the person holding the bug would have to be very close. Practically within less than a meter for any decent shot. Because of the laser's intensity, it would've been impossible to incapacitate the target from any greater distance.

As far as Artemis's model had tried run it had only been tested five times; carelessly on a few employees, once on Butler (he had offered his service, seeing as his favourite maid, Margaret, had been a victim and several of those employees had quit and threatened legal action) and now on Sophia.

Artemis savored in his victory. He had worried dancing would've raised her pulse far too much for the tiny bug to work. One other fluke of the tool happened to be if the target had too high of a pulse, or wasn't already fairly relaxed, the beam wouldn't pass through the excited blood stream. But that hadn't played a factor in this situation. Sophie was naturally relaxed around him when she had alcohol in her system and in comparison to kickboxing and other sports she occasional played, the dancing was to be equal to taking a walk in the park. Sophie was defeated. That was all that mattered.

His plan had been a simple one: dance with Sophie, freeze Sophie, talk to Sophie. Months ago he had inserted the mint-sized bug into his ring, dead center as a false stone. Simple touching her arm gently sufficed. In the large group of people dancing no one would notice two people just standing, even if one of those persons was the host.

"Now Sophie." He said quietly. "I have an offer for you." Just to take advantage of the situation, he moved a step closer to press one hand to the base of her neck and use the other to smooth out the lines of worry creasing her pale face. There were not panic lines yet. _"Good." _He wanted her as close to the stages of calm as possible. She was making this easy. He suspected that she relied on some meditation/inner peace skills she's acquired in India five years ago. Exactly what he had planned on and the satisfaction warmed him.

But now she was talking.

"I don't want-"

"You haven't even heard my pitch." He said patiently. "I'm sure if you listen, my darling Sophia, we can find a compromise pleasing to both parties. Namely you and myself."

Sophie hated it when he called her _"My darling Sophia"_. The pet name (for he said it like a true name) made her feel like a prized Persian cat.

"No."

Artemis frowned. He had at least expected her to be interested. The _"darling Sophia"_ usually caught her attention enough to let him proceed on with any offer he had to sell. Rather, tonight she instantly turned him down. It was unlike her. But she had been more resistant this year than he was use to. Did she really find him so untrustworthy? He brushed the though aside.

"Sophia." He began. "This is-"

However, he was cut short by her lips locking on to his.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Nearly every year Artemis brought up the offer of marriage or courtship. And ever year that offer was very painful for both of them. She refused (albeit kindly) and he turned cold. Like clockwork, he pushed it. By year four Sophie thought he had changed too much for her to ever accept and by year five stopped crying after the fated proposal. For Artemis it was the year John the professor enter Sophie's life, the year she stopped crying. She had moved on and he had not. So he stopped asking and started planning.

Before he stopped, Sophie always imagined the ritual becoming tradition, even after they long stopped loving each other. She was married with children and he asked. He had started losing the colour in his hair, even some hairs with it, and he asked. She was going through a mid-life crisis and he asked. They were both in their 60s and 70s respectively, in wheel chairs and walkers, taking 10 or more medications a day, wearing floral and baggy clothing, with hearing aids and grandchildren and he asked.

So on the night of the gala, Sophie assumed he was trying again after a 3-year hiatus. The timing was off, true (he typically asked toward the end of her stay, usually on the first day of the last week. This saved them at lot of unnecessary avoiding and uncomfortable silences if it only went on for a week. But Sophie had just kick off on her second week, halfway through her stay he couldn't just ask!), but that might not stop him. Maybe he was asking again. She was horribly wrong and at the same time astoundingly correct.

At that time Sophie was not sure if she could handle the question without bursting into tears in this crowd of strangers, unable to move, unable to run away. Over the last days, ever since the opera, she had questioned her original reasons for leaving. She had left because she didn't feel like she could be accepted into his world, his family. Also because she thought it was unsafe—someone was looking for her, always. If Artemis had figured her out, who else? The temperamental Russians? He had more than enough of his own problems plenty similar. She didn't want Sasha to live alone for so long. She wasn't his equal intelligence wise. She had lied about who she was and there was not way he could still feel for her, Sophia Iver, the same way he felt for Tara Gavin. They were different people. She didn't like the idea of a restraining life of a billionaire's wife. Serious in public, quiet, non-spontaneous, fake smiles and big diamonds. Nothing she would want for herself. She would ruin his business, she would be bad publicity. He wouldn't be happy with her; she wasn't who he proposed to.

There were a hundred reasons.

Artemis _wasn't_ any happier without her (that could be because he dwelled on the past too much), his company was _not_ doing any worse or better than if she had stayed (this was because Artemis was naturally an excellent businessman), his health _was_ declining (he was getting older, though) and he _wasn't _moving on (not her fault, it was _his _choice). The last two could really just be quirks that made Artemis Artemis, but still. Sophie was starting to feel some heat from herself regarding those past actions.

"_I was twenty-one, for gods' sake!" _She mentally scolded. _"Far to young for engagement, let alone marriage to anybody! I was trying to save us both from an unhappy union."_

It was her firm conviction that she would not waver. She would not change her mind. She had said no, she meant no. Besides, now she had a real, safe life, a good one at that. Friends, family, a career on the rise, a beautiful home, everything she'd always wanted for herself and Sasha. No illegal business, no escaping-by-second jobs, no fear. True, there was now no Sassy to share it with, but at least it was there and real. She would not change. She would not accept him, she didn't _want _that anymore.

"_Then why is it so hard to keep from crying at the thought of never seeing him again?" _Her sister's voice inquired.

When Artemis stared to explain his grand plan yet again ("…children, Sophie! The Manor, the family…we'd all be so content!") Sophie did the one thing possible to shut him up. With limited mobility, she could just kick him in the shin and run, so she had to be a little more creative. What she opted for was something a little mess and certainly personal. It was truly lucky that he had placed himself so close and that she had better reflexes.

To save herself shattering emotional pain, Sophie did something her imaginary psychiatrist would have an aneurysm over: she kissed the object of her pain. Not a peck or the pressing of one set of lips to another but something a little more personal.

Artemis's response was instant. One hand moved to dance about her waist. Sophie moaned. Eight years she missed out on this, gods she felt stupid. Had he gotten better? Like aged wine, somehow Artemis had beefed up on the making out skills. She almost forgot they were on a dance floor, and a crowded one at that, until he started pulling her off of it.

"Where?" She managed. He swooped to kiss the place were her neck met her shoulders.

"Garden."

That was how sometime later Sophie found her back pressed against the trunk of a rather large tree, her hands clamped to Artemis's skull, entwined in his salt-and-pepper hair, mouth firmly implanted on his. Magically, she could move of her own free will again. She was certainly proving it. Her goal was achieved, but she didn't seem able to quite finish the distraction.

"Sophie." Artemis murmured against her skin. "Sophie, I-"

Suddenly, he froze. Sophie felt his hands stop making the circle patterns on her waist. In seconds her arms were empty. She caught sight of him backing away, shaking his head, eyes dark with fury. Realizing, she choked. "Artemis, Artemis, please, I didn't—I didn't _mean_-"

But he stalked off, back to the lights of the gala, hair rumpled. Sophie, miserable, sat down on a stone bench to right herself, regained her poise, and followed. He must have taken a turn she hadn't seen, for he wasn't ahead of her on the path. It didn't matter. She decided to return to the party, using the lights as her guide.

How could she do that to poor Artemis? Hadn't he suffered enough by her hand? _"He had tried to hurt you, too. And he's done similar to you over the years."_ her sister's voice pointed out.

"_Yes, but I've done worse, tenfold worse." _Sophie shot back tiredly. There was no real reason for arguing with herself.

"_Who can judge that?"_

"_Artemis, that's who." _She snapped. So much for not arguing.

As she edged toward the dance floor, one of the guests stumbled into her. The short woman, wearing a powder blue ruffled tablecloth, excused herself so loudly that other guests looked over, frowning and whispering to their partner. But the stout woman took no notice, just readjusted her glasses and hooted loudly. Sophie winced.

"Oh! Miss Iver! My, my, it's been suuh longggg! 's fiancée, aren't you? Have you 'ad the punch, it's _faantastick!" _Bits of spittle flew out with her words.

Sophie grimaced. The spit itself was bad, but the fiancée question was far worse. The woman, who was Mrs. Bennet, the wife of one of Artemis's top employees in Fowl Industry, was quite fond of alcoholic beverages, as Sophie knew from previous incidences. Apparently she had been generous with the punch tonight. This caused her to verbalize a thought many who saw Sophie had repeatedly. _"Why, she looks uncommonly similar to dear Mr. Fowl's late fiancée!" _

The world had been told Tara Gavin was dead, perished in an airplane crash eight years ago, shortly after her engagement. Many felt pity for the Iver girl, the "replacement". Some were appalled with Artemis. But nobody mentioned this to Sophia, so she was content. The story did its job. Few questions were asked. With her once a year appearance, there was little opportunity for suspicions to be voiced (she guessed Artemis said she was some missionary, a good excuse for her absences).

Now Mrs. Bennet was speaking the unanimous thought.

"Hello, Mrs. Bennet." Sophie replied kindly. "You've got my name right, but I'm afraid I'm not Mr. Fowl's fiancée. He's currently unengaged. Can I help you with anything?" She asked in a rush as the woman staggered to the right.

"No, no my dear." She giggled. "I'm fine. What a great parteeh!"

"Right." Sophie murmured, the offered her arm. "Why don't we go sit down?"

"Alright." Mrs. Bennet consented to being lead away. "To get more punch? Punchy-punch!" She giggled again.

"Um, no, we'll just sit, shall we?" Sophie asked as the older woman stumbled. "How is your husband?"

"Oh, I don't know, probably shagging that waitressssss." Mrs. Bennet said, irritated. "I give him three, _three_, beootiful children and the man can't bloody-"

Not wanting to hear this woman's life story, Sophie interrupted swiftly. "Have you seen Master Fowl lately."

"Eh, no I haven't."

That was when she saw him. He was chatting up some investor and laughing at something the fellow had said. Surprisingly, it was a real laugh. She stared, unable to look away. He looked like _Artemis_ again, happy. Her cheerful Arty, her Artemis darling. The one who ordered her meal in the restaurant while she was in the bathroom and remembering to ask that the tomatoes be held. The Artemis who surprised her with a huge blank canvas of a room, endless supplies, and a work team.

But then he caught her eye and the laughter faded. Neither broke eye contact. The intensity of both gazes could have powered a city, it was so electrical. It wasn't until his friend looked over as well to see what Artemis was staring at. Artemis distracted him by speaking again, then glanced over with a smirk before leaving. Sophie remembered the woman yammering beside her just in time to catch the tail end of the woman's rant.

"-So gud that you are to accompanty Mister Fuwl on the expedition-"

Sophie's head snapped around. "What expedition?"

Mrs. Bennet was irritated at being interrupted again, especially over such a stupid question. "The one Miss Hill told me about."

Sophie stood. "I must go, Mrs. Bennet. Sorry, personal business. Why don't you lay off the drinks for tonight, eh? "

**XXXXXXXXXXX**

"Ms. Hill."

The woman turned around to be surprised by the sight of a fretful Tara Iver. The girl (well, hardly a girl now, she was nearing thirty) looked something near panicked, her eyes wide and hands in fists.

"Miss Iver, are you alright?" She asked, concerned.

"Yes. I was—that is I…did you speak to Mrs. Bennet of some expedition Ar—Mr. Fowl and myself—are…are to"

"Yes, the one you are setting off for next week." Ms. Hill cut her off kindly, albeit confused. "Why? Master Fowl said it was-"

Sophie did not wait for the older woman to finish. Instead, she tore through the crowd (it was quite hard in such a restricting dress). For nearly twenty minutes she searched, growing more and more panicked every second. Artemis had disappeared. On the single time she actually seeks him out, the billionaire was gone. He completely vacated the dance floor, gardens, dining hall, entrance hall, grand staircase…

"_He would do it just to spite me." _Sophie assured herself.

Another fifteen minutes passed and she found him discussing foreign policy with some ambassador. Ignoring normal etiquette, she approached. Touching his arm lightly, Sophie gave the man stand across from them a dazzling smile and turned to Artemis.

"Darling, you know I absolutely hate to bother you, but there's an emergency in the study and you simply must attend to it immediately."

"Your wife, Mr. Fowl?" asked the dignitary.

"Who, me?" Sophie feigned shock. "Oh no, no no! Artemis and I are merely friends. I've been managing his household on those awful business trips." She leaned in to fix Artemis's lapel. "He has them all too often, don't you, Artemis darling?" Her pout was very convincing.

"The study?" Artemis prompted softly.

She clapped her hands, as if _so _joyful of the reminder. "Right! Of course! It's complete chaos…"

Slightly embarrassed, Artemis lead her away by the arm, throwing an apologetic glance back to the man they left behind. The pair went across the dance floor, dodging twirling partners, indoors, up the grand staircase, downing halls until they reached the door to Artemis's study. It faced the drive, the opposite side of the party. Sophie bet the moon could be seen through one of the windows, a crest of white.

"What chaos?" His voice's coolness was in glacier proportions.

"I need to talk to you."

Not even making another sound, he turned back toward the direction of the stairs. Growling, Sophie huffed after him.

"You are a truly _spectacular _host! Threatening your guest, _stunning_ your guest, walking off on your guest during a crisis and let's not forget the random expedition you've planned to take said guest on, might I add, _without telling_ said guest!"

Artemis froze for approximately 16 seconds, then swung round to drag his appreciative guest into the study. Slamming the door, he let out a long, very annoyed, breath. While Artemis abused the 138-year-old door (installed by his great-grandfather, Arthur Demsy Fowl), Sophie settled in her usual winged armchair in front of the desk. It was not an unusual scene. Artemis moved to stare at _"Persephone", _back to said guest. Said guest gritted her teeth and prepared for an unpleasantly long wait. To her surprise, it only took Artemis two minutes to gather himself.

"Who told you?"

"That is of little importance." Sophie replied, her voice strained. "Tell me exactly what you have planned, Artemis Fowl, and perhaps I won't leave in five minutes. Maybe I'll be generous and spare another ten."

Instinctively, they both had mental reactions to the demand. Sophie tried to recall where her escape bag was and Artemis tightened both hands into fists.

"I tried to explain this to you tonight, while we were dancing."

"When you stunned me, you mean? What was that, by the way? I haven't seen anything like it on the market. No matter, keep explaining."

_Of course _she was still on the market. Of course. Eight years retired and the habit hadn't faded.

"You did not allow me the chance to explain. "

"So start! Expedition: Where, why, who, what's in it for me?"

"It's in the Andes."

"The Mountains?"

"No, the music group. Yes, the mountain range in South America. There is some…artifacts there that I am interested in finding."

"Really? Artifacts?" Sophie barked a laugh. "Are you sure you don't mean gold? Hidden native's treasures? El Dorado, Artemis?"

"No quite." He said calmly. "Incan treasures."

"So I'm right." She shot out, eyes flashing. "You want the gold."

"No, it is more than that. I want the accomplishment, I want to find the elusive history." He corrected.

"Then why do you need me, Artemis? I can't speak Spanish as well as you can, or Portuguese at all. I can't mountain climb exceptionally well, I fail at any map reading… you know all this! Why do you need me?"

"You have an Art History degree."

"Me and over several million people. A few more of them actually care about it too."

"Yes, but you have more than that, you can tell the difference between metals, minerals and stones. You know your natural stone facts. You know the history and the value. You can be my editor. What era, style, reigning monarch, part of the country, materials—you have everything and then some, Sophie. I need you for this one. "

"I can't just leave! I didn't pack for a trip to Columbia!" A pathetic excuse, he would buy anything she need without her even asking. "It's dangerous, we have no proof! It's a myth and—I can't just leave! I have things at home… who knows how long it will take?"

"Two weeks, Sophia. Two weeks and then I will take you straight to New York. I swear. And we will find it, Sophie, I promise."

She bit her lip. The offer was…good. Not to long, just the same amount of time she had planned to stay in Ireland. With Artemis at her side, there was no way they couldn't find it, _if _it existed. But she couldn't spend two weeks with Artemis in the Andes! It was the mountains for gods' sake! Neither of them knew the terrain or anything about survival there.

"Artemis…Artemis, you can't _expect _me just to go…you can't! I've got obligations, family…I-"

"It is a good thing then," Artemis replied, standing, a smirk playing about the corners of his mouth. "That I didn't _expect _you to agree."

And then there was darkness. Sophie was out, dead cold.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Oh I do love my cliffhangers! The next chapter will be out hopefully over the weekend, for it's short. Then expect chapter 6 the weekend after. My computer ban has been lifted, but I do have play practice to look forward to soon. We'll see what happens. All will be explained next chappie! It's much shorter than this one, thank goodness. Twelve pages, over 7,000 words total. Yes, I'm good. But now it will take me forevah to edit this one…**

**Hey, don't you think for such a juicy, nice, long chapter I deserve a review? **

**~Dania **


	5. A Little Chat About Ella

**What the Voices Cry**

**By Morbid DramaQueen10 AKA Dania**

Chapter 5 A little chat about Ella

DISCLAIMER: Artemis isn't mine

I think I might have made this mistake in a previous chapter. I'll explain below.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Her next conscious moment was sometime later. Everything was navy blue and tan and off-white. She felt her head lolling around. Her vision was very blurry, but she still caught movement from the corner of her eye. It was a dark…shape? Yes, a dark shape…shifting. The touch of something dry and cool on the side of her face cause her to jerk back. But it didn't remove itself. Strangely, the cool dry thing was comforting, making circles on her cheek.

"_Sophie." _

She coughed. Her throat was very dry. Maybe she should get some punch…alcohol might dry her out in the long run, but be a relief for a brief moment.

"Sophie."

The voice was commanding, and soft. Her name. What was familiar about that…way of it being said? The voice said it again, but she ignored it again. She was sleepy. The voice should leave her alone, let her rest. She almost thought about asking it to.

"Sophie. I know you're awake."

Perhaps if she kept her eyes closed and her breathing paced the voice wouldn't believe its own words.

"You need to wake up, Sophie. _Now. _Please…" The shape moved to another shape beside it. Oh…they were two different shapes. One was black. The other one was also black, but it had a blue strip down its middle. _"Blue is a pretty colour."_ Sophie thought dreamily.

"Why isn't she waking up?" The voice was sharp now, not the low, lovely one she was use to. "Butler, why isn't she awake yet?"

"I don't know, sir."

"Is she-"

"No!" This second voice was deep and rumbling. She quite liked it. "No, it's nothing like that I'm sure. It's been too long for that. Any reaction would have been instant. "

"Then what is it?" The first voice was pleading now. It sounded scared, worried.

"She just wants to sleep, sir. Nothing more. I believe she it tired."

The first voice was silent. The other shape moved away, across the navy blue. From farther away Sophie heard the second voice ask : "What now, sir?"

Distracted, the first shape moved a long black line with a white thing attached to the end. A hand. An arm. "Take the flight to New York. Get your charge and bring her back to the Manor."

The second black shape disappeared without a sound.

Sophie returned to her sleep.

Later, she was woken again. Her vision was no longer blurry. Peeking one eye open, she saw a back to her, standing in a doorway, speaking to man dressed in a starched uniform. The man in the uniform did not glance toward her once. They were speaking quietly. Still, she could hear them.

"How long?"

"Only a few more hours, sir."

Sophie looked around from underneath her eyelashes (her makeup had lasted…however long it had been. It was hard wearing stuff). She was in an airplane cabin, that much was discernable. Navy blue seats, commercial carpeting, oval windows, tan-ish/off-white walls, seat belts. And in her case, zip ties. Or rope. Something restraining her wrists, she couldn't tell what yet. A leather jacket had been placed over her like a blanket. The seats were couch-like. The lights were not little book lights, but pendant lights. These details hinted to the passage as being a private jet.

Now who ever did she know that would kidnap her _and_ have access to a private jet?

The black-clad figure turned back around and stalked down the aisle. Eventually, he settled down into the couch across from her. She was stretched out, legs tucked together. These were roomy seats. The fabric was even nice. Micro-suede, or perhaps the real thing. Whatever. They were comfortable.

Minutes passed. Sophie did her best to keep a deep, even pace of breath.

Artemis leaned in. "I know you are awake and listening."

Groaning, Sophie tossed over to but her horizontal back to him.

"Ah, no." He flipped her back over.

Her hair was loose, shielding her face. Or rather, shielded Artemis from the ferocious glare she was currently aiming toward him. Sophie had never considered that he might stoop to kidnapping for money. The man was a billionaire! He didn't need to wander off into any mountains in search for mythical gold cities. Maybe it was just the sense of adventure. But he certainly didn't need _her _for that.

"Don't touch me." Sophie snarled.

Just to prove he could, Artemis ruffled her hair. She growled and struggled to sit up. He watched, amused. Darling Sophie.

"Release me."

Artemis raised a single brow as if to say _"Honestly, do you think _that_ will get you your way?"_. Sophie was too mad to do anything besides command.

"Get me out of this, Artemis! Now, or I swear to the gods you will spend every living moment of your next life in utter fear."

"Faithful to reincarnation, are we?" He taunted. "Now, now Sophie. You know better than to simply _demand _such actions. If you don't say it properly nasty things could happen. Do you _really _want me to release you here, out over the Atlantic? I suppose I could if you really wanted it…but that wouldn't be morally right, my dear. After all, you _do _have a family to look after, don't you?"

Sophie paled. Artemis leaned back, retrieving a manila file that rested beside him on the couch. Flipping through the contents, he made comical faces, then tossed the papers to her. Luckily she had limited use of her hands so she could peruse them herself. Judging from his expressions they were interesting.

What she saw was possibly the very last thing she expected. And the only thing that scared her.

Photos. They were a mix of black and white and coloured photos. Some featured her; one even had Marvin sitting on a wrought iron bench with her, laughing. But most were of Ella.

Ella at school. Ella walking home from the deli three blocks down from their loft. Ella at the park. Ella on a field trip. Ella and Sophie standing outside of the studio. Ella dressed up for a gallery opening, standing just close enough to Sophie so that she could keep an eye on her, but far enough away as to deter any thoughts of a personal connection between them. There was even one from five years ago, when Ella was four. A year after Sophie brought her home.

Looking up at Artemis, her eyes were filled with hate. He had never seen her so mad. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, her hands were fists, nails breaking the skin of her palms.

"Why did you not tell me about Ella?" His voice was cold and devastated. Sorrowful. Pained

"Why?!" Sophie was so angry she was screaming in a whisper. "Why the hell would I, Artemis? To keep something like this from happening, why else? You have no reason to know her, she's a helluva lot better off not knowing _you_."

"I _have _a right!"

"No you do not, damnit!"

"If she's my-my-…then I do, Sophia!"

"Well guess what? She's not. She's not your daughter, Artemis. Hell, she isn't even mine."

Artemis stared into her blue-green eyes for a long time. "You're lying." He declared finally.

"Maybe I am." She challenged. "But you'll never know. "

Staring at her again, he suddenly composed himself. Leaning back, Artemis smiled, looking for the entire world extremely arrogant.

"Oh, I will. Butler always has a copy of my DNA coding, I'm sure with some convincing he can get one of Ella's." He said, examining his nails carefully. "He's very good with children, you know. "

"You wouldn't." Sophie's eyes narrowed.

His smile grew. "Oh, but my_ darling _Sophia, I already have. She will be arriving in Ireland shortly. Sooner than we will reach Argentina, I'm sure. We'll be stopping in Mexico for an hour or two to refuel."

"If you dare…if anything happens I shall hold you and _only_ you responsible. And you will never have a moment of joy or peace again, Fowl. I will swear to that. Even if I have to slit my own throat to achieve it."

Artemis was quiet. He was sorrowful again. As if he could not believe Sophie thought him that monster,. "I wish no harm on either of you. I just need your cooperation. I would never dream of hurting Ella. Even if she is not my daughter. She is only involved because I need you motivated."

Sophie snorted. "Right, motivation. Like never seeing her again isn't enough."

"Sophie…" He pleaded. "I do not want to hurt you. Just help me. Help me find this last treasure and I will leave you alone."

That caught her attention. "Forever?"

Artemis hesitated. "How about I visit you once a year?"

Her eyes narrowed again. Dangerously.

"For a week? In a hotel? On a date of your choosing. At least let me see Ella."

"She's not yours. "

"Still."

Sophie considered this offer. No more being cooped up in the manner for weeks on end. One week of Artemis a year and she didn't even have to clean the house.

"What if we do not find it?" She challenged.

Artemis thought it over. "Then you and Ella shall reside in the Manor for six months a year. And I adopt Ella as my legal heir."

"What?" Sophie's disbelief was thick. Ella, Artemis's daughter? But…that would only work if Sophie gave up her rights as mother, or if she died or if she…married Artemis.

"I need an heir, Sophie." Artemis explained patiently, as though to a small child.

"Yeah, so go adopt your own." She mumbled. "Why Ella? Find a kid that you can have 24/7. Ella doesn't need your money. She's got a good work ethic now, anyhow."

"You know why Ella." Artemis shook his head. "She's brilliant. She has such potential, her talent…"

"She's a child." Sophie reminded through gritted teeth. "_My _child."

Sighing, Artemis reached into his jacket. He pulled out a pocketknife and flipped it open. Sophie nearly shrank back, but refused to be intimidated. She held her head high, glaring. Artemis held out one hand. The young woman didn't move. He sighed again. "Let me untie you, Sophie. If I wanted to kill you, there are many more intelligent and less untidy methods I would prefer to use. "

Hesitantly, she held out her bound wrists. Artemis expertly sawed through the bonds (now he was a Boy Scout too?). He stood to take the useless rope to the trashcan in the Steward's cabin. When he returned, Sophie was laying across the couch again, jacket to her chin, eyes wide. Not caring if he bothered her, Artemis took is place back across from her. The knife was back in his jacked, the one he wore. He hadn't had any sleep since…since night before the party. It had been a four-hour nap. If he wanted to climb any mountains he would need all the rest and energy he could get. There was a bed in the very back of the cabin, beside the bathroom, but he wanted to stay close to his captive.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Sophie remained awake for a long time. It was odd. She hadn't been close to Artemis so vulnerable in a very long time. Not since…she didn't want to think about it.

Ella. She wanted to concentrate on Ella. Was she scared? Was she giving old Butler a run for his money? Did she wonder where Sophie was? Did she know anything about this situation, would Butler tell her? Would Juliet take care of her? How could Marvin (who was on babysitting duty) allow her kid to end up in this mess? Was he alright?

A lot more questions were popping up than answers. There was only one thing Sophie could be certain of: Artemis wouldn't even consider hurting Ella if he thought she was his daughter. There was one good card in her deck. All that mattered now was that no DNA test be performed. She didn't want him to know the result. That was why she'd kept Ella out of the light for so long. Artemis couldn't know.

Though she had no clue of the time, Sophie needed sleep. Soon. There was no trusting Artemis, but if he was unconscious as well…she imagined holding her baby girl. That would help her sleep. It always did when she was away from her daughter and worrying about her. She remembered holding her baby girl, back when they had that small apartment. She would hold Ella and sing them both to sleep. It was the best way to fall asleep. Sometimes her big nine-year-old would even ask for her mother to do the same thing, on occasion.

With thoughts of Ella dancing across her mind, Sophie tranced herself into a light sleep.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Ella Iver was confused, a state she did not often find herself in. Normally she saw her world with perfect clarity, but tonight not so much.

It was five o'clock in New York. She usually had dinner around this time. If she were with Mother, it was a little bit later, with take out, or simple food. Eggs, toast, from the box mash potatoes and noodles, cereal, soups. Nothing too difficult to cook. If her dinner was with Marvin and Marvin's boyfriend, Roy, then they ate organic things, masterpieces of the kitchen, and never ate out. Roy was a professional chef. Sometimes he even taught Ella how to cook. She could sauté mushrooms, stir-fry without burning a thing, make a brilliant crème apple pastry, and her egg drop soup was divine.

She wasn't hungry, but just out of curiosity wondered when the big man would feed her.

He had arrived at Marvin's an hour earlier with a note in hand. Marvin and Ella had been watching the Discovery Channel at the time, and it was Roy who answered the door, complaining about how lazy they both were every step of the way. "Can't even answer a door, for the love of-"

All words went dry when he caught sight of Butler.

"C—can I help you?" he squeaked.

"I'm looking for Ella Iver." The manservant rumbled.

"Um…come in. Marvin!" He yelled over his shoulder. "Um, I, um, need YOU!"

Marvin arrived in the foyer, craning his neck to look the manservant in the face. "Yes?"

"I need Ella Iver. Her mother requests that you allow her into my charge. It is urgent." He offered the letter Artemis had forged.

"Then why didn't Sophie call?" Marvin always had more guts than Roy when it came to strangers. He ignored the letter.

"She is tied up." Literally. "I have a piece of correspondence from her, if you want her word."

Marvin snatched the envelope and scanned its contents. The handwriting was undoubtedly Sophie's. But what was this about a custody battle in Ireland? Ella's father had resurfaced and wanted his daughter back in his household? _What _was this? Ella's father was dead…Sophie told him herself, and she had been there! He was a missionary, like Ella's mother. They died in that bombing in Kashmir. Sophie had witnessed it and been one of the ones first to help. She held Ella's dying mother's hand when the woman requested Sophie take care of the little orphaned girl.

"I cannot accept this document, and I cannot allow you to take custody of the girl. Tell Ms. Iver that there will be no transfer of guardianship until I get a phone call straight from her." Marvin straightened to his full height. From the living room he could hear Ella giggle. "I must ask you to leave. We'll be having dinner soon. "

He turned to return to the T.V.

Butler sighed. He did not want to knock these men out; the child would be upset and screaming. But the flight was already paid for and set for 5:15, and he needed to get a move on. The drive to the airport itself wouldn't be pleasant, he wanted to get it over with. With one pounding blow from his pizza-pan sized hands Marvin was on the floor. Before poor Roy could cry out, he was in a similar position. Butler checked their vitals and moved toward the sound of the giggles.

Ella sat on couch. Butler was first hit by her appearance. She had dark chocolate brown hair, an ashy complexion with a medium-fair pigment of skin (it was obvious she got outdoor more than her possible father), and when she turned to Butler he could see she had beautiful eyes. They echoed Artemis's, but had a hint of green and brown in their mixture. Hazel. Her build was slim, with long fingers and delicate features (that might have just been because she was a child). She wasn't incredibly tall for her age nor extremely short, more average than anything.

"Who are you?" She asked this in a calm, matter-of-fact manner that reminded Butler more than a little of his former charge.

"I'm your bodyguard." He said simply. "Do you have a suitcase around here?"

Ella's eyes narrowed. "I don't need a bodyguard. Where's Marvin?"

"He went out." Butler said the first thing that came to mind. Really the two men were placed in chairs in the kitchen. "Do you take any medication?"

"No. Where are you taking me?" To his confused look. " You're not a thief, a thief would've taken the cameras," She nodded to bar where three digital camera sat, as well as three charging cell phones. "And the keys from the hall. But I would've heard you take them. Besides, you're not dressed properly. And Roy answered to door and you stood talking to them for a while, so you mustn't be a thief."

"Very good. I'm not a thief. And you are going to Ireland, young mistress."

"Why?" She demanded.

"Your mother."

"She said she was going to France." Ella accused under her breath. "But Marvin won't let me go. I must stay put unless Mother calls."

"_What is it with proof and these people?" _Butler thought. Allowed he said: "We must hurry, Miss Iver. It's urgent."

Ella thought about it for a moment and decided to come. Her mother was involved and she was getting bored with New York. Part of her should've been more cautious, but when looking at the evidence of Roy letting the man in, and her mother lying to her (Her mother _always _lied to her about her yearly trip), Ella decided it would be best to go. Besides, she could tell he _was _taking her for some reason or other in relation to her mother.

Part of Ella's brilliance was that she was virtually a lie detector. Bluffs, white lies, stories…anything. The girl was an excellent liar herself, thanks to a few years' training from her mother. It was impossible to lie to her. This talent was particularly helpful when making friends or buying thing off T.V., but spoiled birthday surprises. She relied on it heavily. Perhaps a little too heavily. Butler wasn't lying about anything, so she trusted him.

So now she sat in the terminal with the manservant. They made an odd pair. An older-middle aged bald giant and a pixie girl with long brown hair, and a bright purple carry-on item. Butler's carry on was a carefully concealed case of his Sig Saur, complete with ammunition and cleaning kit. Oh, and a romance novel. Barbara Starr's latest.

"_Flight 315, First Class is loading now."_

Butler stood and Ella followed suit. She'd never flown first class before, her mother always got coach. This was exciting. She contained her excitement well, looking bored. They got in line and Butler gave the tickets to the woman. She examined them carefully, then smiled and ushered them into the hall.

Ella settled into the window seat with great class and Butler was struck again by how much she looked like Artemis. Albeit a friendlier Artemis. She smiled up at the manservant charmingly. Now she looked like her mother. The waves in the hair…hint of green in her eyes, and the shape of the face…Sophie was everywhere. _How _did this child stay out of their eye for so long? Artemis's child. The heir to the Fowl fortune. How could the Iver girl manage to hide this charming child for so many years, nearly a decade?

When they ordered dinner, Ella ordered the stewardess with ease and confidence. She played with her hair and read. She enjoyed the on-flight movie, something about a mischievous dog. She slept. Butler was on pins and needles. He felt older.

What if…_what if_….

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**See, I think I put something like Sophie wouldn't know if Artemis was still virgin or not—trust me, she knows. I just had this debate about just how BAD it would be to make Ella Sophie and Arty's love child. It would be very bad, but I'm not saying if she is or isn't . You'll have to keep reading to get that. **

**A big thing is reveled in this chapter. I've hinted around about Ella up until now. She's an interesting kid, I must say. **

**Next weekend is my birthday, give me a review!**

**Dania.**


	6. Reasoning and Regret

Chapter 6, What the voices cry

Disclaimer: Artemis Fowl does not belong to me,

Here's a quick run-down of what happened:

**The parts with Ella are a couple hours ahead of any sections about Sophie and Artemis. This is basically because I was completely confused about the whole time-zone thing. So here's how we're going to imagine it:**

**Artemis knocks Sophie out at 9:33.**

** They are transported to the private airport via Artemis's favourite Bently. She is briefly conscious, which is when we sorta see/hear Butler. He leaves for another private jet ASAP when Arty dismisses him. He's leaving at 10-ish. A five hour flight, and he's in New York. Thank goodness Marvin's apartment is less than 10 minutes away. He gets there at 4:45, spends only 8 minutes at the apartment to knock out the home owners and gather up Ella's stuff. Then another 10 minutes to get to the airport. They come thru a back ally at 5:06. Due to Butler's connections, he gets them onto the plane without going through the whole checking process.**

**Yeah, I'm cutting it close (only 45 minutes in the country!) but it could happen.**

**Sophie is mine, Arty is not.**

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

When she next woke up, they had landed. The lack of sound clued her in, as did the missing ear-popping. Sophie kept her eyes closed, savoring the dream she had just been pulled out of. It had been an excellent one, very cheerful. Ella had been there, with her. Where was Ella now? In Ireland? At the Manor? Would Butler be able to handle her? Sophie didn't like to admit it, but her daughter was quite difficult for anyone control. Much like her mother, only slightly more obnoxious.

Opening her eyes, she could see golden beams of light playing across the plastic walls surrounding her. Shadows flitted on the wall. There was silence. No sounds could break through the heavy installation of the aircraft, so she couldn't be sure as to where they were. But from the tint of light she could tell it was morning…where they were. Didn't she hear someone mention they would be stopping in Mexico, last night, when everything was in a blurry perspective.

She sat up, and immediately regretted the action. Her back ached from her uncomfortable sleeping position. However, the thought that Artemis, (who was far less tolerant of such sleeping places) would be in a lot more pain, brought her joy. Cruel, petty joy, albeit joy nonetheless.

The pull shades that she was accustom to seeing on the oval windows were all up. Sophie leaned forward to peer out.

The landscape was dusty. She could see a cluster of brown buildings, all less than one story, in the distance. A fence surrounded most of them, with a few outside of the protection. A skinny dog, brown as everything else around it, stood tied to a post near the closest house, scratching itself with its back leg. The sky was a clear blue, nearly cloudless save the few wispy puffs gathered near some hill about five miles away. Any trees she could see were dry-looking, with hardly any leaves. Looking down, Sophie saw the crumbling concrete runway, with brush sticking out of the various cracks.

An intense sun appeared to have recently risen. No one was outside of the fence, and no living creature (well, except for the dog) was visible. Sophie hugged her knees to her chest. They must surely be in northern Mexico, refueling. She had never been to Mexico. Her Spanish was tolerable, but nothing fancy. Artemis was surely better. Speaking of which…

Artemis had left his make-shift bed across from her, but she could hear movement in the cabin toward the front of the plane.

"We'll be here for about an hour…they want to make a routine check...that and gassing up takes a while, sir. Will that coincide with your schedule?"

"Yes, I believe so." said a soft voice.

She heard the door close. Not open. Did he suspect that she was wake? It wasn't as if she snored, so he couldn't note the absence of inexistent snores. Or was he just being paranoid?

All she could do was stare at her hands. The French-tipped nails glinted in the sunlight. She imagined sketching her hands, getting the curves of her tips perfect and the lines in her palms just right…The cabin door swung open. Artemis stalked down the carpeted length of the plane, only to stop when he saw her, awake and upright.

"Sophie." He stated, his only form of morning greeting today. Her hair was mussed up, her mascara smudged, and her dress completely wrinkled. Nothing that a proper steaming wouldn't fix, he was sure. That gown cost a fortune to make, especially when he didn't even have access to her measurements. It better be steam-able, for the amount he had forked over for its construction.

Sophia didn't even reply. Currently, her relationship was cold-cold with her ex-fiancés. Perhaps it was the abduction. Or maybe the "forceful-employment-to-be-applied-to-trekking-around-a-South-American-mountain-range-in-search-of-a-mythical-city-of-gold". That might have been the reason she was so icy. She didn't think Artemis realized how upset he had made her. This…this could take years for her to get over. Years for her to forgive him.

"If you're hungry, the attendant set out some, ah, fruit and croissants…" Artemis spoke in a low rush, feeling very awkward. There was no "morning-after-I-practically-kidnap-you" protocol, nor had he any plan. If there was a plan, it would be failing quite miserably. He hated how she could turn him into a stumbling boy in mere seconds, without even saying a single syllable.

Sophie just nodded. She had seen the nice arrangement of melon balls and pastries set on the quaint breakfast nook table.

"There is more appropriate clothing in the baggage compartment above you, as well. Your bag has your name on it. If you want to freshen yourself up, in the very back, past the bed, you can use the bathroom." At the very least he had expected some sort of reaction when he mentioned a bed.

Another nod. Nothing that spoke of resentment at being denied a proper piece of dozing furniture.

"I shall be discussing flight plans with the pilot. If you need anything, Sophia…?" With that he had hoped for _something_.

Then, then he received a reaction. A dark look, when he said her name. He had forgotten how she, for some indescribable reason (or, at least, none that she had shared with him) _loathed_ a certain way he said her name. He admitted, that when he had a reason to, he added stress to the vowels and pronounced it slowly, carefully. Artemis couldn't fathom why occasionally Sophie hated the pronunciation, and at other times swooned when he used it.

"No, thank you." Sophie slapped herself mentally for even showing speck of politeness.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Ella Iver was the luckiest girl in the world.

The large man, who had rumbled out that his name was Butler, woke her up five minutes before landing, before even the pilot announced the coming decent. She struggled to sit up, the complimentary cashmere blanket the stewardess had given her entirely in her way. He nodded to the part of her backpack that suck out from the space between her seat. Ella pulled it out and looked around.

"_Passengers of flight 315, from New York to Dublin International, we are about to descend. Those of you sitting on the left hand side might want to look out of your window, we have a spectacular view out there. It is 11:24 pm. If you are connecting onto another flight, once you exit the plane, walk to the escalators, and proceed to the correct terminal. If you are continuing on this flight please remain seated…"_

"Are we getting off here?" Ella asked, yawning slightly. Butler looked down, secretly amused.

"Yes. Stay close to me, it is crowded in the terminals."

She nodded and examined the view.

When they finally landed, Butler and Ella were off first, escorted by the prim blonde stewardess. A few other passengers glared as they passed. Travelers always hated those who received special treatment before themselves. Ella scowled herself, causing Butler to nearly laugh aloud. He quite liked this girl.

Butler led her through the crowded airport terminal. She kept to her word, never straying more than an arms length away_._ The nearly-seven-foot-tall manservant made a path easily in the masses (and accumulated stairs even more easily). Ella trailed just behind him, her eyes never with the light of interest as her gaze flickered from faces, to the architecture, the shops lining the smooth granite-tiled walls, to the roof, which was shatter-proof glass. Planes, both in coming and taking off, could be seen above.

A sleek black car met them outside. An average looking man in a uniform sat in the driver's seat, nodding in a friendly way to Ella and her bodyguard. Having no baggage, Butler opened the back door courteously for his charge, than eased himself into the passenger seat in front. "Home." He ordered the driver. The other man gave another nod, and they drove away from the curb smoothly.

The drive took a little longer then usual, for the nightlife was very active. Ella managed to keep her eyes open the entire time. She hadn't visited Ireland before, though she had suggested multiple times, Mother always vehemently protested against it. The city wasn't too different from her own place of residence. On a grid, bridges, a river, plenty of bars, crowded streets. Nothing too interesting or different, yet there was so much that was. Everything was more old world, more charming, more _real._ New York…was a huge show on the upscale side, and a complete nightmare on the not-so-up-scale sides. Dublin had much more character, and was much more appealing to Ella.

Finally, the tires hit the gravel drive of the Manor. Ella sat up a little bit straighter, anticipating through Butler's own motion that this was their destination. She kept her eyes focused ahead, but she did not miss the high walls extending 3 meters into the air, trees lining the drive (trimmed to a narrow arrow shape), and the perfectly manicure lawn. They approached the house.

Ella was impressed. The house was grand. It was four stories, stone, with lovely arched windows framed in delicate wood, and a grand set of stairs leading to huge oak doors. Polished lights in pewter winked, sculpted bushes made long shadows, raked gravel gave a uniform appearance, and neat rows of flowers greeted her.

The car stopped. Butler got out first, swiftly for someone of his age and size. He opened her door and took her pack, ushering her up the steps. They were solid, strong grey stone. Though she very much liked the house, there was something ominous about it.

**XXXXXXXXX**

"_Mama, what's that?" _

_Four years old, Ella Iver wasn't such a brilliant artist as her mother, but they both enjoyed the hot summer afternoons in their loft, drawing and drinking sweet tea. They took turns showing each other's work, explaining any symbolism. Sometimes, they even made challenges, like "What is your favourite place in Central Park ?" or "If you could have any pet in the world, what would it be and what colour would you want it in?" and "How many ducks can you put in a picture without being cheesy or obsessively crazy?" It was a fun game, simple. Sophie adored playing it, but occasionally her mind got the better of her and took control of her hand. So Ella wasn't allowed to see the pictures stemming from theses moments. _

_Today was one of _those _days, and this picture was one of _those_ pictures. Sophie looked up, her motions jerking. Her eyes were wide, surprised, as she first looked at her daughter and then at the pad of paper sitting on her lap. Then her eyes flickered shut. _

"_Mama?" Ella pestered. _

"_Darling, I'm sorry, my…I lost my mind for a moment there!" She laughed, trying to brush the worry in eyes aside with an airy laugh. _

"_Can I look at it?" Her daughter tugged on the nearest corner of the paper. Sophie yanked the pad away._

"_No!" She caught herself. "No, I…I don't like it. It's a terrible drawing, you would laugh at me, dearest." Smiling, she took a sip of tea, pressing the paper into her chest, the picture out of sight. _

_In an attempt to distract her daughter, she nodded to the second drawing, Ella's drawing. Today's challenge was to draw "Your most favourite place on earth." Ella pushed her pad across the coffee table. It was picture of the library Sophie had built for her a little less than a year ago. Basically the 3__rd__ bedroom had been transformed with shelves lining every wall, a state-of-the-art MP3/CD player tucked in an ornate cabinet in one corner. Sheer curtains framed the window, a finely woven rug on the floor, plump armchairs with antique lamps sitting next to each. _

_"Very nice!" Sophie cooed. "Excellent use of line. You might want to smudge here-" Her finger moved to a line of shadow, smoothing out the tiny particles of graphite."-and you should watch your shadows. Like, why is this one here? Isn't your light source coming more from the right?"_

"_Oh, it is, but then the lamp is on."_

_It was enough. Next time Ella went to the rest room Sophie got up to refill their glasses, ripping off the drawing from the pad, crumpling it up into a crude ball, and tossing it into the wastepaper basket. From the bathroom, Ella heard the wad reverberating around the plastic sides of the trashcan. _

_That evening, after her mother had gone to bed, Ella crept into the living room. Shadows made the room look much more sinister at this hour to a four-year-old. Still, she kept her head high, and headed straight to the trashcan. It took a little digging, but she finally got her little hands on it. _

_She took it to the library. Switching on her favourite lamp, she un-crumpled the wad and spread it on the desk before her. If she had expected something mysterious, cryptic, or laden with secrets, she was sorely disappointed…_

_It was a house. A grand house, large, stone, elegant and medieval. Something her mother would lust after, Ella was sure. She might like the loft, but her true love was always ancient, historic fixer-upers._

_Ivy crawled up the walls of this house, making it even more charming. The windows came both high and arched, or square and leaded. A long set of stairs lead to a pair of huge doors with magnificent knockers. Round bushes lined the walks, tulips sat in flower boxes, and a tower stood proudly in the northern corner. _

"_Ella?" _

_The girl jumped nearly a meter into the air at the sound of her name. Sophie stood in the threshold, the tie of her robe trailing on he floor, eyes half-lidded, blinking sleep from themselves._

"_What are you doing? You should be in bed, not creeping about giving me a heart attack." She smiled, and ruffled her daughter's dark hair. _

"_I was reading." Ella defended herself hastily, backing in to the desk. She hoped to grab the drawing before her mother could see it. _

"_Oh really?" Sophie glided forward, leaned down on the pretext of kissing her daughter on the head. Instead, she snatched the crumpled paper from behind Ella. _

_Very suddenly, her eyes went very wide. "Oh El." _

_Ella bit her lip. It took a lot for Mother to get mad, but perhaps that is because she was rarely bad. But never had she done anything like this…_

_Sophie stared at the paper for a time, lips moving, uttering silently. Finally, she looked up again. "Darling, why did you bother digging this up?" Her voice was trying to sound light, but it quivered slightly. "It's a horrid attempt, you know. My form and shape really suffer when I'm not focused."_

"_I'm sorry. I just wanted to see what you drew." The girl said in a whisper._

"_Oh, darling, I understand. But, really, to go to all the trouble of finding it." She gave weak laugh. _

"_Where is it, Mama? Why is it your favourite place?" _

_Sophie gave a tight smile. "It…it is across the ocean. In Ireland, _cara_, across the ocean. And I just drew it, you know. Popped into my mind like _that._" And she snapped her fingers on the word. " Because it was so pretty. Still, I doubt its still around now. Old places like that rarely last when they're near a city. I just drew it because it was so lovely. So pretty." She repeated, attempting to convince the girl, though it sounded as though she was also trying to convince her self as well._

_Ella did not believe that for a moment. This was the woman that drew chucks of rotting meat only because she thought the colour was peculiar. Sophie Iver did not draw things simply because they were "pretty". She drew interesting, soul-arousing pictures. And when had she asked _why _her mother had drawn it. Even if Ella had not been a living lie detector, she would've seen through her mother's feeble attempts. She had blathered on about the place, why she had drawn it, in such a manner as to cause Ella to be very apprehensive to believe her in the slightest._

"_Why don't we throw it away?" Sophie suggested. Ella nodded, and watched as the worn paper fluttered into the wastebasket for the second time in twenty-four hours. And she would not again retrieve it ._

**XXXXXXXX**

The large man, Butler, offered her dinner, and Ella quickly agreed. She was famished, having never had that gourmet meal at Marvin's. Butler ushered her down to the basement kitchen, then spent a time hunting down an ancient jar of peanut butter.

The odd pair sat in silence, Ella chugging her milk, Butler staring off into some patch of wall. He was tempted to pull out his Sig Saur and begin cleaning it, but was concerned about alarming the girl. He didn't know her history with guns, so he would be cautious about bringing any out in front of the girl. Still, Butler kept the weapon near. Mother became desperate when their children were at risk. Sophie might have found some means of communication, and God knows, with her connections, it would be easy to find someone to fetch her daughter from the Manor.

When Ella yawned again, Butler offered to show her to her quarters. He led her up the grand stair case in the entry hall, what her mother would call a _foyer._ They moved the left, up another passage of stairs, this one winding and stone. A few more turns, and they where there. Double doors, wood matching the rest throughout the house, with polished glass handles. Butler swept them both open, and Ella stepped in, hesitant.

The floor was wood, a pleasant cherry-honeyed colour. A fluffy purple rug sat in the center of the floor, pretty brocade curtains, with sheers behind and between them, hung in the two arch windows. Double window seats, painted white with tons of cushions piled on them, sat with floor to ceiling bookshelves on either side. A total of six floor to ceiling shelves stood throughout the room lining the walls. A large wardrobe, also white, sat on the right wall. She opened the front to find a flat screen TV, 40 inches wide, and an Ihome, including an Ipod, pre-stocked with over 1,000 songs. Looking across the room, she was met with an elegant white four-poster canopy bed, with a net and lace canopy. Words in Latin flowed across the purple walls in darker tone

" _Ab__incunabulis__pinxit__primus inter pares__. __Adsum__."_

"_From the cradle, painted first among equals. I am here." _The girl translated silently.

Ella sucked in her breath. The message was cryptic, confusing. Butler looked at her for a moment, than spoke.

"Will you be needing anything?"

"No. I think I'm good. Wait!" He had turned to leave. "Where's the bathroom?"

"Ah." His near-black eyes glittered with amusement at his own forgetfulness. "Here." He opened a white, two paneled door on the right wall, flicking on the light to show a spotless marble toilet room.

"Thank you."

Butler left. Ella crossed to the bed and sat down, pushing some of the fluffy pillows on to the floor. It was time to ponder.

Her mother wasn't there. Her mother had not attempted to contact her since she had left nearly two weeks ago and she hadn't since the large manservant had gathered her into his guardianship. The latter was not like Sophia Iver. However, it was normal for her to avoid calling or writing on her yearly vacations. Mother never explained why, but merely brushed any questions aside with airy laughs and great tickle sessions.

But the fact that Sophie had sent her here and then didn't greet her or contact her the moment she hit Irish soil…that was suspicious. Mother wasn't like that. Yes, she was very absent-minded, but neglecting? No, that wasn't like her at all. Mother was overprotective; she would've meet Ella at the terminal. In fact, the girl had been disappointed when she hadn't.

This could only mean that Sophie was…distracted. Perhaps even endangered. Something was horridly, terribly wrong. But what? Obviously the Butler man didn't know of any schemes, she wouldn't felt something…

Ella Iver was a sensitive. She could profile people very quickly, even quicker than her mother. This was a useful talent, especially when trying to make friends. Movement, clothing, voice pitch, eyes all aided in her classification of the human nature within mere minutes. The Butler man was sincere when he said Sophie wanted her and he was a decent man. However, all other evidence suggested something was askew.

Perhaps who ever was directing the manservant hadn't told him everything; he could just be a mere lackey. From what she had withdrawn from the hours on the flight, Butler was not one to do anything immoral for money. His employer was wise to keep him in the dark, allowing him to do his job without hesitation or guilt. Or, perhaps, Butler knew very well the situation, he just was far more better informed than she and knew her mother was in no danger. Maybe this secrecy wasn't ominous. What if Mother was fine, perfectly fine, just busy? Could she be blowing the entire situation and evidence out of proportion? Projecting something dramatic and bold to excite her bored mind?

No. No, she wasn't. Not at all. Sophie would have called or passed a note, or anything if she could. Obviously, she couldn't. So Ella was trapped. Kidnapped. And she had complied without the slightest fuss.

But why? Why had she been taken?

The answer was very clear. Practically transparent, to trick you into believe the answer was far more complex than it actually was. Ella was _bait. _Motivation for her mother to do or say whatever the kidnapper wanted her to do or say. This was a _nasty _condition.

"_Ah, well." _Ella thought, fiddling with the Ihome remote she had found on the delicate bedside table. _"This could be an interesting experiment. I wonder…"_

A very evil thought flitted through the girl's mind. Normally not one to be mischievous, she wanted to test how far she could go until the Butler man would lock her in this room. It could be fun. She could have immunity granted by the person who had ordered kidnapped her.

Still…she would pack a bag tomorrow, when she could grab some food and maybe some water bottles, just to be on the safe side. _"You never know when the circumstances you thought you knew so well can turn around and knock you flat on your butt. You never know what the other people know, and you can never assume to do so. Always prepare for the very worst, dearest." _Her mother use to say that quite a lot, almost as though she were quoting someone.

Ella, who felt the day had been successful in nearly every way, regardless of a kidnapping and mindful of her recent conclusions, readied herself for bed.

Miles away, her mother, (still at that time unconscious), shifted in her restless sleep, dreaming of her daughter.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

"You can freshen up in the bathroom." Artemis said quietly. Sophie nodded, saying a soft thank you. She wouldn't look at him. For a moment Artemis felt a twinge of regret-how many times would they go through this awkwardness?-but then he brushed it away, recalling how they had always moved past such problems with the aid of time and laughter. Artemis left, snatching a pastry on his exit.

Sophie sat for a moment, gathering her wits. She opened the over apartment luggage hatch to find two duffels. Both were sturdy, goodly sized for the pair. Hers was forest green, Artemis's dark blue. Sophie lugged hers down, unzipping the black metal zipper slowly. The interior contained three day's worth of clothes, sanitary items, makeup, and books. Four books, including Artemis's latest on quantum physicists, _Wuthering Heights, Death of a Salesman, _and a book on South American Folklore.

Also…a tiny jewelry box. Square, covered with blue velvet with a silver clamshell clasp. It was nestled in the bottom beneath the neatly folded clothes. She didn't touch it. The box was more than familiar, no matter how common its appearance was.

If she hadn't been so weary Sophie might have mentally burned Artemis for picking everything out so perfectly, for choosing her clothing again, but there was no point in wasting such brain power.

Instead she settled with a murmured "I hate you, Fowl."

In the back of her mind, Sophie vaguely wondered if it was her best friend who packed this bag. Would Juliet know where Artemis was taking her? For how long? For what reasons?

Sophia selected her fresh clothes and entered the typically tiny airplane bathroom. She slipped on the brown sturdy bootcut pants, black tank top-tunic, socks, and long olive woolen jacket. In a zippered pocket Sophie found a Aztec silver pendant and pearl earrings. Biting her lip, Sophie internally debated wearing the jewelry. They were not obviously set out, but it was obvious Artemis had picked them out specially. Anything to win brownie points with the depressed Irish billionaire. Yet her naturally rebellious self wanted to leave them.

In the end she slipped the pendant and earrings on, though not before she brushed out her hair. It was slightly oily, causing her normally curly hair to be straighter, though limp with more shine than usual. Sophie hopped Artemis would find accommodations with running water and soap before their trek through snow-covered mountains. Surely there would be _something, _some hotel with carpeted floors, three-channel TV, entirely-canned food breakfast, and cracked, moldy bathtub with cold water. That was what she would pray for, aside from Ella's safety.

Ella. Sophie sat down on the toilet seat, hard, hurting her bum. Guilt flooded the young woman's veins. Her baby. Was she safe? Happy? Well fed? Mouthing off to her captors? The girl would hopefully be far more smart than her adoptive mother. _"Never date a billionaire with a temper, especially if he's a spoilt only child." _Sophie knew Ella would only roll her pretty eyes, nod and skip off.

She hurriedly tossed on some makeup, brushed her teeth, and rolled on some deodorant. Artemis would've returned by now, and she was soon they would be off the runway in no time.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

Artemis Fowl II was returned to the cabin perhaps thirty minutes after his former fiancée exited the bathroom, a brown paper bag under his arm. Sophie was curled up against the arm of one white couch with the folklore book and a peach on her person. Artemis tossed the bag to her. She caught it, and glared. He merely raised a brow and nodded in greeting.

"It's not a bomb." He said, gesturing to the bag, taking the top off a strawberry as he leaned against the breakfast table. "And I'm sure it's not poisoned. Open it, darling."

Her scowl deepened. He merely nodded again. She opened the bag tentatively. The eggs and coffee were nestled in the paper bottom looking like a godsend. Sophie looked up, confused. "What?"

"Do you want breakfast? As I remember, you were a fine cook." He smirked. Sophie was a notoriously horrid chef when it came anything outside of instant, frozen or microwavable food.

"Um, how…how exactly am I took cook these?"

"There's a burner and small pan in the flight attendant's compartment. We won't be leaving for another hour.'

Sophie looked down. "Thank you."

Surprised, Artemis returned with a soft "You're welcome." Awkward silence filled the space until Sophia moved pasted him to the compartment near the nose of the plane.

When she was out of sight, he smiled and relaxed again, twirling the silver-plated pen he found in the pocket of his black Armani jacket. Once they had boarded the aircraft he changed into something more comfortable. Which was of course for him was an Armani suit with loafers. He pondered:

If he kept up with little kindnesses as this Sophie would be easily enough manipulated in no time. Under normal circumstances it would take weeks to convince her to help him. With the virtual kidnap of her daughter, Sophie was already his to control. Rather, what he needed her to be was _willingly _his to control. The magic that controlled the entrances to the city of gold required a scholar, a lover disappointed, a fool, a magician, a priestess and one who had known death. And all of them had to be loyal, there of free will.

He thought between the two of them they had all six requirements filled. He had the disappointment, they were both highly intelligent people who studied more than necessary, she was of a calm resonance. Once he held magic, and twice she had seen death. All he needed was her to submit to him.

"How do you like your eggs?" Sophie stood in the narrow doorway. Her jacket swung from her hips, tied to her waist in a neat knot.

"Scrambled." He replied cheerfully. Undoubtedly the young woman's etiquette forced her to ask her host if he would like to share the meal he so generously provided. Gladdened by this progress, albeit small, Artemis offered a smile. Sophie just stared back, unsure of how to respond. She eyed the silver pen between his fingers, moving in a spiral.

"Darling, the expression of confusion does not become you." Artemis merely said lightly, condescending. She certainly knew how to reply to that one. The scowl Sophie shot him before she ducked back into the compartment was truly ferocious. The smile that graced the billionaire's aged face was genuine and warm. And his eyes looked less like rocks.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**I'm alive! And very, very, EXTREMELY sorry! My computer died, taking the first five pages to chapter six and two from chapter seven along with it. Not only was I too depressed restart on another computer, but also busy! Like not coming home till 12-2ish on school nights. Plays, while fun as the name implies, are very stressful and not at all enjoyable for people who adore their rest. Again, I am so very sorry. This is long overdue, and certainly not worth the wait, but enjoy!**

**Questions, comments, leave 'em in the review box, or PM me. **

**~Dania**


	7. The Tune of Despair

What the Voices Cry

By Dania

**Chapter 7: The Tune of Despair**

**DISCLAIMER: Artemis Fowl isn't mine. Sophie, Ella, Marvin, Aram, et cetera are mine.**

Enjoy, darling readers. And read my end rant! The REVIEW!

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Calls of vendors and thin mountain air filled Sophie's senses. The hiss of something doughy being dropped in bubbling oil, cries of happy youngsters, sharp sounds of flags whipping in the air, old women gossiping in their native, lovely tongue…the place was slightly primitive, old world. But she thrived in places like this. Sophie ducked into a stall of a plump woman who offered a collection of course woven pieces.

"_Buenos __días__." _

"_Buenos __días__, senora. __Bienvenido__."_

"_Gracias." _Sophie answered with a kind smile. The woman moved back respectfully though she kept her gaze on the strange redheaded woman. She felt rude pawing through the piles of blankets, but what was she to do? Upon finding a woolly red and green throw with a simple pattern of trapezoids and lines, the young woman looked up, complimenting the craftsmanship and inquiring after the price. _"__Cuanto__cuesta__esto__?"_

The stall owner gave a hesitantly toothy smile and offered a number. Sophie pondered the price and agreed, pulling out a tooled leather purse and some currency. They didn't get much circulation of money in these parts. The cost was fair enough. She smiled warmly and departed with her purchase.

"_Hasta__mañana__, senora. Buena __suerte__!" _

The town did not have a name, or, at least, one that Artemis bothered in translating. Fairly small, extremely rural, and very authentic. Truth be told, while she had turned up her nose at it on first arrival, Sophie loved it. She thought it was charming all the way down to the smelly, woolly llama pastured near the "hotel"—or rather, inn, for it was much too small and swimming pool/continental breakfast-less to be a true hotel.

Their plane landed in Peru around midday yesterday—or was it the day before? The constant moving about and random intervals of being unconscious hadn't allowed her to keep track of time very well.

After their departure from Mexico, a long ride landed them in Peru around 11 o'clock, on the same private jet. From the deserted runway two burly Hispanic fellows escorted them to a silver foreign car. Outside, the windows were completely blacked out. The two duffels were loaded into the trunk as one of the men lead Sophie to the back driver's side seat. She felt the lid give a heavy thud as the man finished loading their luggage and a hollow ringing echoed in her chest. Something to the tune of despair.

"_Is Ella okay?"_

As was typical, the entire ride was spent in silence. The two men sat in the front and Artemis had slipped into the back beside his captive. Three minutes into the ride Artemis pulled out his Goldspade—the Fowl Industry version of the outdated Blackberry. Flipping through his messages, he saw four new texts. One from Butler (who loathed texting, for most phones didn't have keys wide enough for his thick fingers), one from Mr. Aram, a close friend, and two from his parents, with photos. They were enjoying their vacation. He felt a pang of guilt. It didn't feel right that he had given them this gift to satisfy his own selfish ends.

Butler:** Got her. airport. B there in 4 hours. Call U 2morrow.**

Aram: **Bell saw ur plane left. Wish u success. Guide will be in Blanco Zorro in 26 hrs. Supplies hotel. Call if need B. Minnie sends 3.**

At that last line of sentiments, Artemis smiled. He doubted the fierce blonde had sent him anything resembling positive feelings. Perhaps malice and anger.

From the hour drive they reached the hotel, a nice one with hot running water, separate rooms and room service. Artemis gave his captive permission to bathe and order food. Relieved, Sophie fled to her room, ordered the first thing she saw on the menu (which was entirely in Spanish) and took a long soak in the tub. Artemis offered to take her out, apparently to buy the hiking supplies he had not purchased in Ireland.

"What's the point when you'll just pick out everything for me?" She snapped when he met her at the door to her room. "No, thanks, I'll stay here and enjoy civilization for little while longer, shall I? Who's to say you won't handcuff me to your man purse, anyhow, _Mother?"_

"Fine." Artemis replied coolly. "I'm not entirely sure you should be seen in public, after that childish display, Sophie, you would embarrass me beyond belief."

"You could do with a little embarrassment" the young woman shouted. Sweat trickled down her brow. Peru was quite humid. "Considering the size of your _ego_, you could certainly use some humiliation, seeing as you dish it out left and--- honestly you're such a bloody-"

"Stop this-" He started sharply. "-ridiculous, immature behavior-"

Sophie had it. She had been kidnapped, terrified, threatened, treated like a fool…and she had been. A complete fool. Ella's abduction had been sheer proof of that.

"_-dick!"_

The reverberating sound of the word—or rather, the feeling it gave—pulled a huge moment of silence into the room. Artemis scowled, upset more by the use of slang than anything. He started hunting.

"You're devious, lying-" He hissed.

"Me? The _liar_?" Sophie barked out a cruel laugh. Or, at least, it resembled a laugh. "I'm not the only one who's expanded the truth on occasion, control freak."

"Who was the on hiding their identity? Who claimed to be some—some bohemian abstract artist?"

"Kidnapping, OCD, impulsive, manipulative, prick!" was her only response.

"Thieving little wench."

"_Vaffanculo__." _

Artemis didn't reply. She took another shot.

"Insecure, overbearing, bloody arse."

He stepped forward at that final blow. His teeth, gritted and barred, he grabbed her pale wrist (which had been much abused over the last two weeks, no thanks to Mr. Fowl), pulling her toward him. Sophie struggled, wringing her wrist out of his grip.

"Uncontrollable, unnerving childish tease." He whispered. Slightly miffed, slightly flattered, Sophie hit him squarely on the jaw. With the acceleration considerably slowed due to Artemis's hold on her limbs, the shot didn't hurt anything but his pride. Staying true to form, however, he laughed and released her. Sophie moved as far away as she possibly could (which was the bathroom) slamming the door with admirable force behind her.

Artemis left, locking the door carefully behind him. As he waited for the lift, he tapped a loafer-ed foot on the polished floor. _"That certainly isn't going to win you any trust points." _He was entirely ashamed of his entirely rude display; to shout out insults like a slighted child! For a moment he was grateful that he had booked a room isolated from the other guests in the hotel, with unoccupied rooms above, beneath and on either side of their adjoining rooms. No one had heard their heated name-calling tantrum. _"Father would've been disappointed." _He thought bitterly. But his father was already disappointed in him. _"That was not a gentleman who screamed at his former fiancée. At the very least…" _He had won. He, Artemis Fowl II, had the last laugh. Quite literally.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Twelve hours later they once again were escorted by the two burly men. This time to a dark green Jeep idling outside of the revolving doors of the hotel. The detachable tarp top was on. As before their hired man were seated in the front and the captor-captive pair slid into the wide back seat. Sophie ensured the pair of heavy-duty backpacks Artemis recently purchased were firmly planted between them.

The ride ended at the edge of the city. There the vehicle stopped abruptly. Sophie was jolted awake, blearily opening her eyes. From her very limited view she a small, shady bar and another blacked out car. Their escorts removed themselves from the Jeep. She eyed the other vehicle as the driver's side door swung open. A boot hit the ground. She nearly caught sight of the occupant, but was distracted before she could get a proper look.

"Let's go." Artemis sad quietly, opening his door. Since her side was door-less, she had to scoot over to remover herself (very ungracefully). Artemis offered his had to aid her dismount. Sophie hesitated and took it. Even when she made contact with the dusty gravel he didn't let go, instead tucking her arm under his, keeping their hands clasped.

Together they trotted over to the mysterious car in even strides. The escort pair stood before the open door, speaking to the occupant, masking the person from immediate view. When they were close enough to see the individual seams on the sole boot that was presumably the car's owners, the escorts parted and the man stood.

He was tall, with a dark complexion and glossy black hair tied back at the nape of his neck. The entire man was long and gangly. He had the kind of smile that was infectious and calloused hands. A simple platinum wedding band rested on his left ring finger. Black boots made of crocodile skin (faux, but so wonderfully designed as to not look remotely so) complimented long feet and his dark brown suit made his skin glow.

"Artumus!' He greeted her captor cheerily and jaunty. His accent was thick. Sophie couldn't identify it. "And the luvee Miss Ivoor! A pleeasure to finally meet yoou." He kissed her un-Artemis-occupied hand swiftly.

"I deed not theenk yoou wood greet me, my freend." The man said, turning to beam at Artemis. "It is wounder-"

"Ah, it would be a disappointment to be so close and to no visit you, my friend." Artemis was smiling, actually, a genuine smile. Not his usual nasty smirk." To miss such a rare chance at seeing-"

But he was cut off by a sharp shout. "ARAM!"

Both men flinched. A stout blonde with styled curls stormed toward the group. The tall man edged behind Artemis, but was barely concealed, being a whole head taller than the billionaire.

"I told you I was in a hurry! You did not need to bring him here to catch up gossip, you old woman!" She shouted as she stomped closer, one red stiletto kicking up dust with as much force as heavily swung pickaxe.

Sophia was impressed. The woman was slim, sharp-looking with angular features. Her hair was evenly cut, the curls softening her hard appearance slightly. She wore a red and gray skirt and blouse set with silver accessories and pearls. Glasses with square frames, black, sat on the bridge of her nose. Just as striking as the tall man, "Aram", she was perhaps twelve or so centimeters shorter than Sophie and up to three years older.

Finally she halted, two meters across from them. One heel tapped the ground, sending up tiny puffs of red dust with every force as she cocked her slim hips, placing her smooth, soft-looking hands on them.

"I deed not know they were coming, deer." Aram said.

"Like hell you 'deed' not." She snapped. Her own flowing accent was easily recognized. French. It figured.

"Minerva." Artemis started softly, soothing. Sophia's head snapped to look at him. _"His fiancée?" _Nobody noticed her shock. "Had we known we were to be received so coldly, we most certainly wouldn't have troubled you so. You seem so _distressed_."

For a moment the woman, now identified as Minerva, the ex-fiancée, glared, her nostril's flaring. Sophia thought she might yell again, banning them from visitations. Instead she smiled.

"I am sorry, my friend. Rough business haunts my thoughts and my free time is so sparse. You know the state of the economy. Half my stocks have dropped. But yours'…" She eyed him, enviously.

"Minnie," Aram said, his voice cautious. Artemis gave him a grateful nod.

"It has been a long time, Minerva."

"Indeed."

Sophie could nearly hear the words: _"But not long enough_._"_

Artemis turned to his captive. "This is Sophia Iver. Perhaps you have seen a few of her pieces. He newest gallery set premiered only this last year in New York. She's been very popular on the New York scene. "

Sophie blushed. Artemis hadn't mentioned her work in ages, hadn't complimented it years. Technically, none of the comments were compliments, but still. It was close.

"Ivoor." Aram mused. "I've heard that name before."

Sophie shifted her weight from foot to foot. Her father, Gavin Iver, had been a M15 operative, very successful, very powerful. While in regular society, his name wasn't a household one, the equally powerful, the insiders, knew Mr. Iver and his frail wife.

"You were his fiancée." Minerva stated bluntly.

Sophie went a shade darker. "You were his girlfriend. Funny, that puts us in the same league." Artemis held back a smile.

"I was." The older woman confirmed. "Whatever have you done to the poor boy?" She smiled at Artemis. "He's been to quiet lately."

"What have you done to that poor _man_?" Sophie shot back. "When I got him he was already a mess. Tail between his leg and all."

Minerva winked at Artemis. "Ah, we're too old Fowl girls."

"Look who you're calling old.' Sophie raised a brow. "You have at least a good two years on me, madam. I'm still in my twenties."

Minerva laughed. Both men looked relieved. Sophie took it as a sign of the woman's short temper. Aram offered his hand. "It is a pleeasure to finally meet." Aram repeated, apparently starting over. "Aram Zito. Artumus has spoken much of you, Miss Ivoor."

"Indeed he has." Minerva cut in. "Far too much at some points. I already feel as though I'm bored with you."

Sophie smiled. "That's just his blathering, you know. He's never mentioned you, yet I feel disgusted by you already."

Minerva chortled, "Minerva Paradizo. Regardless of the last names, we're married." She nodded to Aram.

Sophie of course knew the name. Besides being the "evil" ex of her former fiancée, Minerva "Minnie" Paradizo was a world renowned scientist and inventor. She had a famous temper.

Linking the other woman's unoccupied arm with her own, Minerva began pulling her toward the bar. "You must come in, really. Raul makes _fabulous _martinis-"

"No, Minnie."

"Not today, Minerva-" Artemis and Aram started at the same time. The two women ignored them, walking away. The pair of men looked at each other. Aram shrugged in _"Ah-well-what-can-you-do?" _sort of way and set off after the women. Artemis followed.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

"Martini, Raul. And a lemonade." Minerva said crisply as they approached the bar, ordering for herself and Sophie. She dropped Sophie's arm and places herself on a bar stool, patting the one next to her. Aram came up behind them, placed his order with the large fellow standing behind the bar polishing glasses, then turned to Artemis, who trailed in the wake of the tall man.

"Wood you like anything yourself, Master Artumus?"

"No, thank you. We're in a hurry. Making that lemonade a virgin, sir." He commanded Raul. His fierce gaze turned on Minerva. "I'd rather she be sober for our drive, Minerva."

Minerva gave him a patronizing look, then returned to Sophia. "If what I've heard about you is true, that deserved a nice verbal thrasing."

Sophie grinned. "Perhaps later. We need to stay a little professional." She glanced at Artemis from underneath her lashes. She realized she needed to stop tiptoeing the line, and changed the subject to keep control. Sophie launched into a quick rant about the beauty of scenery. Minerva narrowed her eyes briefly, not fooled for a minute. But she jumped into the conversation eagerly enough.

Another person entered the bar, so quietly no one noticed him until his neared the row of barstools. Minerva jumped up at seeing him, kissed him on both cheeks swiftly, and led him over to her guest.

"Sophia, darling, this is my and Aram's personal assistant. Mr. Bellisario, Sophia Iver. Master Fowl's colleague in his search, you recall?"

More stout than Aram, Mr. Bellisario still had great stature and posture. His features were--for lack of a less cliché word—sculpted. He had dark, wavy hair, olive skin. Stud material. Dark eyes bore into her own blue-green orbs.

"A pleasure." He said quietly, smoothly, taking her hand in his own.

"Y-yes." She stuttered.

"He's very useful." Minerva said fondly. "Books reservations, takes care of press dates, plans galas, decorates bathrooms-"

"-tastes coffee, picks out wardrobes." He added. "Don't be afraid to tell her what I really do, Minnie." Minerva laughed. "Friend-for-hire, agrees with everything, denies nothing."

He was charming, but Sophie felt like she was missing something.

"You must get one, Sophie. I'm sure with your busy life and career, you could use a hand." Minerva gushed. "Especially with a daughter."

Sophie blinked. How was it that Minerva knew of her parenthood when barely Artemis knew himself?

"Ah, certainly. " She avoided mentioning her manager, who basically did all of the mentioned duties, whether she wanted him to or not. It was part of their unusual friendship (typically the manager and managee stayed on a professional-level relationship that did not include babysitting each other's children, shopping together, or I. Hollywood gossip).

Their drinks arrived. Twenty minutes pasted. Mr. Bellisario kept a close eye on Sophie, a little too close. Practically staring. She was starting to get slightly creeped out. Though she kept her own eyes on Minerva, it still was eerie. When Minerva turned to Raul for more drinks, Sophie stared right back. But the man wouldn't look away. He had no shame, nothing in his expression. Save the curve of a smile playing upon his lips.

At that point Sophie wanted to leave. She actually wanted to go, wanted to take the gods-know-how-long ride alone with her captor. She like Minerva, enjoyed their conversation, and thought they had the potential for a great friendship. Finally, she broke eye contact with the Italian to meet Artemis's gaze.

They had long since perfected that ability many couples shared to communicate through simple eye contact. In that blissful year as Artemis Fowl, the innocent businessman and Tara Gavin, the amateur artist living with her sister in a rented flat, they'd had more than enough practice. Sophie's pleading look caught her captor's attention easily and held it. Surprised, he lifted his brows.

'_Why?" _

Her eyes darted to the man on her right, leaning closer to her as Minerva kept up a steady monologue about the economy.

Artemis's dark eyes grew amused. _"Do you want me to rescue you?"_

"_Please."_

"_In a moment."_

She rolled her eyes. Artemis turned back to Aram.

"My friend, I'm afraid we must depart. You know how long the ride to the foothills is. We'd rather not miss our guide. Bad first impressions, you know. "

"Of course." Aram bowed. "Boot promise you shall come to Nice and veesit for a time. Soon."

"Yes." Artemis agree. "I would love to. Next month, perhaps?"

"Yoou wood…bring Miss Ivoor?"

"No, I'm afraid not, my friend." His voice was wistful, but hard at the same time. "Sophia tries to limit our visiting time to less than a month a year."

"_What?"_ Aram sounded horrified. "But you—you be _aşk _her_!" _

"_Aşk_?"

"Word of my Grandfather's peeople. To mean 'to love'. Romantically."

Artemis nearly blushed. "No. Not anymore." He said softly. "Our combined _aşk _is over."

"Yoou are sure?" Aram sounded confused. "Yoou… do not act as if _aşk _is over. Yoou take girl. Yoou reespeckt her. Yoou buy her ring, keep ring. Yoou do whatever she wishes. Yoou choose theengs to make her happy---"

"I'm sure you have more." Artemis said quickly. "But we must go."

"Keep my words, Artumus. Perhaps you still _aşk _each other."

"Perhaps, Aram. We must be going, Sophie." He called.

Sophie jumped up, relieved. "Must we go so soon?" Her voice was a high whine. "Surely we can get there before dark even if we stay another hour—"

"No." he said firmly. Sophie cast a great look of disappointment and annoyance across her face. Artemis said in his superior manner "Say your farewells, darling. I'll be checking our gear. I'll return for you when I've finished."

Sophie scowled. _"As though I was an insolent child." _

Aram stepped forward, extending one long, tanned hand. "A peety we deed not have much time Miss Ivoor."

"Call me Sophie, please, Aram."

He bowed, smiling. "I told Artumus to bring yoou to Nice this coming spring. We shall keep a room for both of yoou, if yoou weesh to occupy it."

"Thank you." She said, entirely surprise. Pleasantly, though. She liked the couple quite a lot. "Perhaps if Artemis could come later, though. We just—"

"No, Sophie." Aram said firmly. "You ought to go with Master Fowl. Minnie would like to see you both." His voice was soft.

Sophie did not know how to respond to that. Had Artemis possibly egged the man into insisting upon that condition. She just stood, slightly stunned, until Minerva walked up to them. She slid next to her husband. He put a hand around her waist leaned down to kiss the top of her head.

"It was wonderful to meet you." Sophie could see that she meant that statement. Warmth filled her. She honestly liked both of them and hoped they could continue that causal relationship even if she discontinued contact with Artemis. Maybe they could take the babysitting job.

"You, too." Sophie said sincerely. "I hope we can…renew our acquaintance, after this. If we return, that is."

The couple laughed in unison. Sophie smiled easily. She had a feeling this would be the happiest moment she'd have over the next two weeks. Climbing mountains in search of mythical cities supposedly, all the while without electricity, running water, or human companionship save her captor and the guide (whom, Artemis had assure her, could not speak a single one of the languages she was fluent in). Meeting Minerva and Aram would probably be the highlight of the entire kidnapping.

Mr. Bellisario stepped up, his own smile plastered on his sculpted features. Sophie pulled back slightly but he had already taken her hand with some swift force.

"Miss Iver, it was entirely a joy meeting you." He said rather formally.

"You as well." She attempted taking her arm back, but the man had an excellent grip, one not expected out of his form. Neither Aram nor Minerva were looking at them, both having turned to the bartender, ordering more liquor. Sensing this, Mr. Bellisario had no problem pulling her into him keeping a tight grip on her wrist.

"I'm looking forward to your visit next year. Hopefully you and I will be able to take a private tour together."

Sophie squirmed, pulling back. "Leave me alone—"

"Sophia." A sharp voice coming from the doorway carried to fill the room.

She looked up startled and relieved. Artemis stood in the door frame, tall and imposing. Sophie had never seen him so furious. Bellisario instantly removed his hands. Sophie took a large step away, rubbing her wrists. Her wide eyes turned to Artemis who, at a quick glance, looked her over for damages, then took four silent strides to stand before the Italian. Bellisario backed up, until his back hit the bar.

"Touch her again—" Artemis hissed. "I shall guarantee _no one_ in _any _respectable line of business hires you for the next two decades, sir, on any continent. Do I make myself clear, _sir_?"

The man, visibly pale, nodded. Gritting his teeth Artemis nodded, sealing his threat. Then he pull Sophie away, and strode out. Minerva and Aram eyed their assistant, then followed the steamed billionaire out.

He was helping Sophie into the car. He turned when they approached, still seething.

"I suggest you hire a new man, Aram. This one doesn't seem to understand that propriety is constant in his line of work." Artemis spat out stiffly.

"He will be seen to, Artemis." Minerva said, gently. She leaned over to look at the younger woman, her expression apologetic. "I'm so sorry, Sophie. He's never acted like this before. It was highly inappropriate. I apologize profoundly."

"No worries." Sophie attempted a smile. "It's not your fault. Just be sure you talk to him."

"Of course."

Sophie nodded, looking away. Artemis looked at her, his expression pained. Aram held out a hand.

"Good-bye, my freend."

"Good-bye, Aram. Minerva." He accepted the handshake. "She will be fine. She's just in shock, I think. More over what I said, I think. I stole the right to applying a verbal thrashing from her." He smiled half-heartedly. "And she won't be happy about that."

He climbed into the driver's seat, buckling his seatbelt and starting the engine. Sophie stared out the windshield, expression blank. When they left the parking lot she turned around to look at the couple still standing there, watching them. Aram had bent down to nuzzle his wife's curls, and she had wrapped her arm around his hips (the only thing she could reach due to their considerable height difference). Sophie turned back around, and stared straight ahead, keeping her mind on her daughter.

**XXXXXXXXX**

That evening they had arrived in the foothills and the village without a name. A weary Artemis woke her up, carrying both their bags up to the inn. He was dead on his feet, just as much as she was, but insisted upon it. The owner, a tiny old man with a kind face, fed them a bland soup and bread. The pair kept drifting off over their bowls. Finally, Sophie nudged her captor, and using the other as a support, the pair stumbled up the stairs (the stumbling could be attributed to either the uneven build of the stairs or the weariness of the climbers).

They had only one room, but it had two tiny beds. Sophie led Artemis over to his bed, the one closest to the door. He collapsed into it, holding a stitch his side, closing his eyes. A wing of raven hair fell across his face. That simple change made him look so much younger. She swept the astray lock away from his brow and sat back onto her mattress.

During the drive, during the part she had been conscious, Sophie pondered her current relationship with her former fiancée. When he had…saved her…back at the bar, she had been so…_pleased _to see her knight in shining armor. The kidnapping put a damper on their growing relationship, as did the yelling session the evening before, but Sophie could feel that they were on the edge of something. Something that could make or break what the rest of her life was like. Even if she didn't want to admit it aloud, Artemis had ruled her life for nearly the last decade. Directly and indirectly.

When thinking about it, it made her mad. He was the reason she couldn't stay in Ireland, or Europe at all, for that matter. He was the reason she had to keep a low profile and he was the reason she had to try so hard to keep her work low key just so she could keep doing what she loved. He was the reason she had to ditch her regular life for a month and leave her daughter behind as she repaid a debt. He was the reason she had become even more paranoid. He cause of numerous sleepless nights. He was the reason she hadn't been able to take he daughter out into the open. Ella had an irregular childhood, thanks to him.

But there were upsides, as well. Sophie had the best apartment, thanks to him. She had some rare buyer who bided outrageously high, thanks to him. Because of Artemis, she had traveled more than she had ever thought she would. True, it was all to avoid him, but still. They were good experiences. Thanks to Artemis her Italian had vastly improved and thanks to Artemis she had learned Korean.

How could she possibly want to…begin again? How could she still be attracted to him, after what he'd done? Yes, she taken part in the digging herself, but certainly darling Arty could share some of the blame.

After what he'd done today, Sophie thought maybe…maybe things could be…right again? They could joke again, have fun, spontaneous dates, they could surprise each other with lovely gifts. Ella could have a proper father and Sophie could have a life that didn't require her to look over her shoulder every other second. No more secrecy, no more paranoia.

With these thought on her mind, the young woman drifted off slowing into a restless sleep.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

Sophie wandered the very dirty and small streets after buying the woolly red blanket. She passed the llamas pastured in a rickety-fenced round pen on the hill side. The air was crisp and thin. Inhaling, Sophie shivered at the puff of cold that entered her lungs. Snow sat on the peaks high above her. She did not look forward to the cold, powdery stuff.

Sophie turned around and walked back to the central part of the town. Feeling a tad hungry, she made her way to the stall where a plump man threw dough in a hot vat of bubbling oil. Politely, she inquired after the price and brought a few balls of the sweet fried dough, then continued exploring. Artemis did say it would only be an hour, but the village was so small if he wanted to find her it would be too much trouble.

When she paused to watch a potter shape a lump of clay on a spinning wheel, a small boy came jogging up to her. In some quick Spanish, he relayed that she was to follow him, for Master Fowl had news; their guide had arrived.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Aşk means "to love" in Turkish. It's a romantic form, not a family sort of lo****ve.**

**This was greatly an improvisation. I'm leaving in two days, so I wanted to get one more out! Now that summer is here I'll do my best to update this and Red Sky one a week, twice at best. However…this fict shall not last past 15 chapters, thank the gods! Sorry for another lengthy wait. **

**Please review! PLEASE!!! I'm dying here, guys, throw me a bone. Even if it's a complaint, correction…just an "I like ur story!" The lack of attention is killing me! This is a 5044 word post! Gimme something! Your thoughts, comments, ideas….love it, hate it, REVIEW it! Reviews give aspiring author fuel! Yes, you heard me; it's not food we live off of, it's your words.**

**Thank you. Sorry about the rant. **

**~Dania**


	8. Dark Rock and Sky

Chapter 8: Dark Rock and Sky

Disclaimer/Claimer: Artemis Fowl isn't mine, Sophie & the Iver family are.

Sorry folks, a very long, dramatic chapter. Have faith, Chapter 9 is more than halfway done!

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Juan was in his mid-forties. He had tanned, weathered skin and twinkling jade eyes. He had, as Artemis translated, guided people through the Northern and Central part of the mountain rang for over twenty years. They were not his first gold seeking clients, but probably the most ambitious. True to Artemis's word, Juan did not speak any English, French, Spanish, German, Sanskrit, Arabic, Gaelic, Korean, or Russian, or Greek, or Italian. Well, he knew some basic English, Spanish and Portuguese, though not enough to carry a conversation past three sentences in any of the three.

When Juan arrived, Artemis started speaking to him in quick and fluent Somali. Juan did not look like he had ever lived in Somalia, but then again his name probably wasn't "Juan".

Artemis was eager to start, but Juan insisted they wait for dawn. Artemis halfheartedly agreed, and settled in early after checking their packs one last time. Sophie snuck downstairs into the tiny back kitchen to commission the owner's wife into baking a dozen loaves of her coarse bread. While she was helped kneading dough, Sophie chatted with the older woman in quick Spanish. She asked about Juan, if he was here often.

"_Si__." _The woman said, and then she made a comment Sophie did not understand. Something around the lines of "That pale gentleman has been here too. Twice, in fact. "

Frowning, Sophie claimed to not understand. _"No __entiendo__, __perdone__."_

The woman said it again, more slowly. Artemis had been to the inn, at least twice, both times to climb the mountains. He was always very generous, a good customers. The last time, last fall, he had told her husband that he would return for a third time, this time with a woman.

"_Gracias," _Sophie murmured. They had formed the dough into small rolls, and the woman was stoking the flame in her brick oven. _"Buenos __noches__. __Cuanto__cuesta__esto__?"_

The woman named her price. Sophie nodded. _"Blanco hombre pagare por todo. Muchas gracias." _

**XXXXXXXXX**

The next morning, an hour after first light, they left. On llamas.

On having first seen the nimble creatures, Sophie thought they were too delicate, too small to hold anything but perhaps a few packs. But she was soon proven to be wrong. The brown and white animal she was paired with easily held her and the two heavy packs Artemis insisted they needed (though how he was going to lug his around was a mystery to her, seeing as the Artemis she knew was clumsy and physically unable to carry anything exceeding the weight of an encyclopedia for more than a few minutes)

Artemis explained that they would ride the animals until they reached a check point up part way of the mountain, where they would leave them. From there they would trek up one peak to reach a pass. It was a very narrow, difficult area that was frequently covered in snow. When it wasn't, avalanches were always a danger. Few troubled with trying to pass through, until they realized it was the only way in. Airlifting was not an option—according to myth, the city was _in _the pass, accessible only certain times of the year, and very concealed.

Llamas, as they two Irish natives discovered, did not smell at all pleasant. And they were not as easy to ride as a horse, though they moved fast enough. Sophie nearly dozed off at one point, only to have Juan jab her awake with a sharp, unintelligible, word. She moaned and sat upright, struggling to keep her balance. Riding was boring. The scenery, while nice, had nothing especially exciting in it, and she soon felt drowsy. Juan was eyeing her, waiting for his client to start snoozing again. Sophie stared right back and the man made a motion with his hand _"Stay alert, else you'll get us all killed._" In a huff, she nodded. Juan turned back to his conversation with Artemis, who cast an amused glance in her direction. She sighed. With nothing better to do, she pulled on her mind to keep herself awake and occupied.

Sophie wondered what Artemis was keeping from her. Was it some horrid secret about their journey, or the city itself? Had he already found it, if he had taken this path twice already? Why wouldn't he explain?! She needed details, if she were to help him.

"AHHHHHH---"

Her head snapped up just in time to see Juan's llama stumble, and the man fall. The steep path wasn't wide enough to catch him and he fell down into the rocks at the bottom of the low ravine. Sophie halted and dismounted before Artemis could stop her. Snapping open the fiberglass staff that had been folded and attached to her belt, she carefully eased down, gathering a steady balance.

"Sophie. "Artemis called sharply. She glanced back, her eyes wide. He nearly called her back, volunteered himself…something.

"We can't leave him, Artemis." She said softly, nearly pleading. Juan gave another scream. Sophie turned to him, then back to Artemis. "Tell him I'm coming to help."

Artemis dismounted his llama, yelling in Somali to Juan. Sophie hadn't moved, waiting for permission. Surely he understood that he was in no condition to attempt a rescue himself? He nodded. "Go."

Edging carefully down, Sophie kept her eyes on Juan as much as she could. The man held his right leg, which was bent in an odd angle. Broken. Juan might not be able to mount his llama, even when aided by either of his clients. How far away was the check point?

After five long minutes of lowering herself down, she finally reached him. Juan scooted forward, babbling in his language anxiously. Sophie knelt and pointed to his injured leg. "Your leg?" She asked softly. "Hurt?"

He nodded furiously and spoke again. She looked up at Artemis for a translation. "He says his leg is probably broken. He cannot stand. He will need your help."

"Of course. But I'll need to look at his leg. Maybe even splint it."

Artemis explained this to Juan slowly. Juan nodded, and pulled back his pant leg. Yes, his leg was certainly broken. There was a collection of various scraps and scratches on his arms and face as well. Sophie called up to Artemis: "Could you toss me a blanket, or shirt? And some spare rope?"

A blanket was tossed down, along with the requested rope. Sophie flipped out the Swiss Army knife she had pocketed when Artemis had been packing back at the hotel. She cut the rope into lengths, then bent to fold the blanket around Juan's leg. Then she tied four length of rope, equal distances apart. She offered her hand and the staff. Juan accepted both and they began the long struggle up to the path, the llamas, and Artemis. When in touching distance, Artemis took her arm.

Grateful, Sophie smiled up at him. "Juan first."

He moved to his guide, pulling him up gently with surprising strength. The other man smiled and chattered his thanks.

It took a little work, but they managed to help him mount his gray llama. Sophie patted his knee and asked him about the pain. Artemis told her that the leg still hurt, quite a lot, but not as bad as before. "Rest." She told him. "You shouldn't strain yourself." He agreed, through Artemis.

"How much further to the check point?" She looked to Artemis, staring into his mismatched eyes.

"Two kilometers." His face was grave, his lips tight. Sophie was worried. Two kilometers wasn't far, and it could be so much worse. Why was he acting so forlorn?

"_Too many questions." _She thought. Aloud, Sophie said quietly. "We shall leave him at the check point?"

"Of course. He's of no use to us in this state. We can return to the village and I shall arrange for a ride back to the city." He said in a dull voice. Walking back to his llama he called. "It seems that we will have to abandon the expedition."

"No!" He turned back to stared at her.

"Excuse me?" His voice was dangerously low. "Don't you see, Sophia? We have no guide, no way to get past these bloody mountains. We cannot go on alone."

It was her turn to stare. "You…_planned _this!" She whispered, rage dawning on her face. "You planned this, you bloody arse, didn't you?" Her voice was raised to a shriek. Juan turned around from atop his llama, confused.

"What are you getting at, Sophie?" Artemis asked sharply. He stepped toward her, arms crossed. A deep blush had crept its way across her face. "That I intended Juan to break his leg?"

"If not that then avalanches on the mountain, or storms in the pass, or some other damn excuse!" She hissed. "How could I trust you—"

"What are you implying?"

"Do I need to write a novel to explain just 'what I am implying', darling?" She growled. "You obviously set this up so your end of the deal would come through."

"My end of what deal?" He leaned in close, eyes dark. Then he recalled, jerking back suddenly, as though her gaze burned. "You think I arranged this just too ensure my side of our agreement would come through?"

"Do you even remember now? Ella as your heir?" Sophie took a deep breath.

Artemis was quiet. "I remember."

"Then…you did plan this? You've been here twice, you've found it already, haven't you?" She guessed, calculating his expression.

"No, I haven't. " He moved closer again, his face drawn. "You think I would really do that to you? Make you endure this climb if I had already found it?"

"Yes…maybe…I don't know! I don't _know _what the hell you would do! You never tell me what you would do, that's why we're in this mess! But I'll just assume that you are making me endure all of this, shall I?"

"You know what they say about assuming things. How it makes an ass-"

"You—you're joking? Now? I'm having a mental break down, (because of you, might I add, oh noble host), any you are _joking? _Artemis, this is my life, for god's sake, you can't play with it like it's a marble or a card game!"

"Sophie," He said, weary. "We have more important things to focus on now." He nodded to Juan. "Can we discuss it later, perhaps."

She stood, rooted to the spot. "I am not a betting piece," She hissed.

He simply turned and walked away to mount his llama.

**XXXXXXXXX**

Another hour passed before they reached the check point. Juan's leg had to be examined frequently while riding and the llamas were sulking. For most of the journey, Sophie ignored Artemis, her lips pressed together in a thin line, her head held high. The thought fulfilling their agreement haunted her mind for much of the day.

After they helped Juan into the cot in one corner of the shack that was the check point, both she and Artemis thanked the man who tended to their guide. He ruled the check point for three months out of the year, as it turned out, until he switched to be a guide with Juan and another man who owned the he suggested, they sat before the fire that occupied the furthest corner. Again bored out of her mind, Sophie sat thinking. Artemis, tired and content with their fate, stared in to the flame, dozing. But Sophie's mind wouldn't let her sleep. She could not stop thinking of the future. The future was something you were not supposed to dwell on. But when your entire life was going down the drain how could you not?

Her mind raced, each new predicament and worry tossing her body into shivers of fear and mental abuse. Jaw clenched, she fidgeted in the seat, rubbing her hands together in an effort of distraction.

Would she have to give up her rights as mother to Ella? Would they sell the apartment? The dog, Essay? What about her passion, art? The thing that kept the family afloat, abandoned? What about school for Ella? She loved the half day school, and the business she was learning with Marvin. That was another concern: the friends the Iver family had made in the years. Was she to never speak to them again? And Ella? Would she be able to see Ella? Would she still be Ella's mother? What about Ell-

Sophie started feeling quite faint. Through the kidnapping, mountain climbing, threats, fights, etcetera, a person gets slight weary. She certainly was. Just for a moment…she closed her eyes…for no longer than a moment…it had certainly been a long day…

When she woke up, the fire had been burned to embers. Artemis sat next to her, looking at the glowing bits in the hearth, the red light reflecting in his mismatched eyes. Juan snored in the background. She blinked and sat up, rubbing her neck. Artemis glanced over, his expression blank. Ignoring him, she continued rubbing the knots out of her shoulders and neck.

"I was going to carry you to bed. But I didn't want to disturb you." He said. His voice sounded hollow. Sophie looked at him, eyes wide.

"Oh…thank you for the consideration."

Artemis didn't respond. After a few more seconds, he spoke again. "You're having nightmares again. Crying in your sleep. You scared Miro." He nodded to the third man, the shack's master, snoozing in a rickety bed near the kitchen.

Unnerved, she wasn't sure what to say. The last time Artemis had been in the presence of her during a night terror, the dream had been about him.

"I apologize if I disturbed you."

There was no reply. Sophie suddenly felt very cold. She stood, clutching the blanket that had not previously been wrapped around her shoulders. Her boots were off, and her hair had been pulled back into a ponytail, just the way she liked it when she slept. The jacket she'd worn and the scarf underneath that were both gone. Artemis must have removed them to make her feel comfortable.

Looking around frantically, she spotted them, her boots, jacket and scarf in a pile by one of the vacant cots. Sophie moved to grab them and walked to the door, closing it quietly behind her. She at least had the sense for that. After shoving the boots on, she marched to the pasture, where the llamas grazed on some dry grass. They backed away from the fence, making unhappy llama sounds.

**XXXXXXXXX**

For the last three days, Ella had been having the time of her life. Her mornings started with breakfast served in bed, and ended with movies on a huge screen in the study, the projector being controlled by Mr. Butler. There were rules such as no emails, no phone calls, and no going past the gates at the end of the drive.

Aside from that, Ella had free run of the place. The Manor had a fantastic library, gardens to run in, a pool to swim in, huge grounds and a large house to explore. Though she was alone most of the time, Mr. Butler was always around to deliver a meal or show her a new room or book.

On the morning of the forth day, it was overcast and rainy. Perfect for Ella to stay indoors to plan her escape. As she sat and drew out rough drafts, she could see that the options were limited. Cameras were in nearly every room, and out on the grounds. Mr. Butler and the other household staff patrolled the halls. Her doors were locked after she went to bed, and were unlocked an hour previous to her waking up. Unless she could disable all the cameras, alarms, and distract all the patrols successfully, Ella wasn't getting out of Fowl Manor anytime soon. It was a strong fortress, built to keep people out—and in.

Deciding that it might be best to wait, Ella settled into a morning of reading and drawing. She sketched out of one her favourite rooms so far—the attic gallery and studio. It had a good layer of dust when she had first discovered the room. But she saw the craftsmanship in the design and its usefulness. Her mother would've adored this place with the high ceilings with exposed wood beams, medieval arch windows and sweeping sheers. Ella could've drawn it for hours, but she happened to glance at the clock on her Ipod, and had to scramble down the winding stairs to meet Butler for lunch.

After he had set the bowl of potato soup before her and settled into clean his Glock (he never ate around her and had since found that the girl had no fear of guns), Ella began their typical Q-and-A session.

"That attic room—why isn't it being used?" She slurped her soup. The potatoes were not bad, of the highest grade of tubers. Though, perhaps the pot had been over heat too long, it tasted slightly over-cooked. Which, she supposed, was far better than under-cooked.

"The attic room, Miss Iver?"

"Yes, the one with the windows and art studio." Ella stabbed a leaf of romaine lettuce.

Butler was quiet. "Master Fowl has no use for an art studio, Miss Iver. He has little fondness for the arts."

Now, Ella found this to be quite a lie. Even if she hadn't been a virtual lie detector, the evidence was enough to kill an elephant if piled on top of the large creature. The house itself was a museum of most of the arts, whether it be written, drawn, played, painted, sculpted, or danced.

"That's a pity." The young girl said carefully. "So he wouldn't mind much if I spent anytime in there? It looks like it's not being used to its potential."

Butler was now stuck, and the girl knew it. Artemis certainly would not want the future heir in that particular room; he would want her in there even less than he would want her snooping through his personal apartments. Butler had claimed that it was not being used, so why couldn't she possibly use it herself?

The manservant mulled over the question, polishing the barrel of his weapon slowly. "I don't see why not." He said slowly. "Though Master Fowl would want you to be careful and leave personal things undisturbed. Do you understand?"

Ella nodded, the satisfaction sweet in her mind. "Could it be cleaned?"

"I shall attend to it." Margaret had often suggested that she spend a day dusting and polishing the place. He knew she would love to tidy up the place; the woman was the type of maid that was born to clean and took an odd sort of joy at doing it.

"Thank you." The girl settled back in her set, looking out into the garden. "Do any other families live near here?"

"No." Butler admitted. "Not for a few kilometers."

"Oh." She looked a little disappointed. Ella, unlike either of her possible parents, liked being socially active. To be confined to just Butler for company wasn't kind to the girl, but he had his orders. Artemis insisted she stay on Fowl property, with no visitors, and no contact to the outside world, until he returned.

By then she had finished her lunch. Placing her silverware across her plate just so, she removed herself from her seat, and excused herself to her bedroom for an afternoon of reading.

Two days later, the attic studio was "spick and span" as Margaret put it, and Butler informed his charge, who immediately went to make use of the neglected quarters.

The floor gleamed from a fresh polishing. Cushions that were once dusty and drab now gave the yellow room some soothing colour. An abstract sculpture stood in one corner, black and imposing in the cheery space. When she looked into the studio section of the room, she saw the mismatched selection of antique easels had been dusted gently. The sheers she had liked so much had been taken down, replaced with thick, embroidered curtains. L-shaped tables, worn from use, had been scrubbed clean of crusted on paint.

When she came back into the lounging room, she saw that the alcove beside the sculpture, the one she had thought had been for shelves, had faint, upraised, shapes. As though something had been painted there, a mural perhaps, and then painted over. Why? Had the mural been ugly, offensive?

Ella continued exploring, observing the tiniest details. Butler said the owner disliked art, but then why would he have his own personal studio if you didn't like the subject? It had obviously been remodeled, or renovated within the last decade. But why into a studio which was never put into proper use? Why not into something useful to this "Master Fowl"? What was the point in paying for something you would only neglect? That was like buying a horse when you lived in a crowded city, riding it to work for several days only to go "Ho-hum, well, this is awfully inconvenient, what a waste of money." Then leaving the horse on the roof of your building to fend for itself.

That very afternoon, while looking over the titles on the small bookcase tucked into one corner, Ella Iver found something very… forbidden. She knew it the moment she read the first page. Though she didn't know it, nothing could be more damning to Master Fowl's plan and Butler's credibility.

Her mother had been here.

Several years ago too, by the looks of it. Her mother, Sophie Iver, had lived in this house for several months when she was twenty-one, _engaged, _no less, to its owner.

"Sophia Iver", however, hadn't even been her name. She was Tara Gavin, young amateur artist living with her sister in Dublin, with their cat, Gem.

The girl could feel her stomach dropping. Her head ached and cold swept over her. Ella never knew she had an aunt. Her grandfather's name had been Gavin. But her mother…was it possible…?

The evidence stared up at her in a flat red book, part diary, part photo album. Newspaper clippings and photographs were stuck between ivory pages. Her mother's scrawl filling lines, along with quirky little pictures she'd drawn. Letters were tucked in the back. Ella could see, as she turned pages, that this little book was an on going project, for at a certain point, the handwriting changed and the drawings disappeared. The letters were now evenly spaced and in pristine, perfect masculine handwriting. Notes on phone calls and visits. The dates on the newspapers steadily came closer and closer to the present. Many of them were from newspapers in the U.S., newspapers in New York. She even started recognizing some of the articles and photos.

So…so her mother had lived here, nearly a decade ago. She met Master Fowl through some silly newspaper ad, and they began dating casually. Over time, Sophie had moved in to the Manor, and they had become engaged. The room Ella sat in right now was even designed by her mother, as one flirty note suggested!

But then she had left. Or as a few newspapers claimed, died, in an airplane accident. But whoever had been keeping the book _knew _her mother was still alive and knew her new name. Or was it her old name? Was Ella's real last name "Gavin"? Or possibly even "Fowl"?

Ella scrambled to find the date of the crash, when her mother had obviously left Fowl Manor. No. Clearly the dates not consistent, unless she was really 11 or even 12.

As she continued looking through the jumble of newspaper clipping and photo, she stopped at one of her mother leaning against a pale man, who resembled some of the characters whose paintings lined the walls of the Manor. His dark hair was tidy, save for the few locks making a raven's wing across his face. Thin and handsome, he had aristocratic features that were strong and chiseled. Ella could see two mismatched eyes staring out at her, one deep blue, one a forest hazel. His posture was perfect. He held her mother close with one arm, almost possessively, his fingers playing with her hair. Their hands were clasped together, fingers intertwined.

Her mother had not changed much, from what she could tell, though perhaps her hair was lighter and shorter then, and she had more meat on her bones. Sophie even had paint-splattered fingernails and hands, as she typically did while working. The locks of auburn silk fell down her back in waves of curls. The smile curving on her lips was familiar, and then not. More carefree, Ella decided, probably due to her youth.

The man, however….Ella searched her mind, trying so hard to recall how she knew that face. He was someone she'd seen before. Maybe from TV? He must be Fowl then. The Fowl her mother had been briefly engaged to. Had it been he who keep the book updated, with notes on phone calls and visits?

"Miss Iver?" She heard the manservant calling, his thundering footsteps coming up the stone stairs. Ella rushed to stuff all the clippings and photos back into the book neatly. This was _exactly _what she had been forbidden from doing. _"Disturbing personal things"._ Or, in other words, snooping.

Before Butler was even three feet from the door Ella had replaced the book, and grabbed another, plopping herself into the nearest armchair and opening to a random page in the middle of the novel.

**XXXXXXXXX**

Mr. Butler let himself in, leaving the door open behind him. He could see through the open windows the pinkish orange of a sunset on the western horizon. From the operations booth he'd missed the passing of the sun. Had he really been in there for three hours?

"Hello." Ella said politely, closing her book. He glanced at the cover. _"Agriculture in the Bronze Age: How the Cow Changed It All". _Something even Artemis would snore over. "Can I help you?"

Butler inclined his large head. "Are you in need of anything, Miss Iver? You have been up here all day… dinner perhaps, or something to drink?"

"No, no, I'm fantastic, thanks. Not hungry, really." She smiled, utterly innocent. "When would you suggest we have dinner?"

"Eight o'clock." It was only then six p.m.

"Oh, well then, thanks." Ella tapped her book, charming smile still plastered on her face. "I'll probably be done with this by then. Thank you!"

The manservant nodded and made his exit, noting how both mother and daughter had a tendency to sound much alike when trying to hide any wrongdoings. Guilt ruled their voices until they realized to hide any trace of it they must stop speaking.

He had a little guilt of his own, however. The call he had been waiting for finally came through. Artemis had apparently been too busy to actually call, instead sending a text with his careful instructions.

"**Mouth swab 2nite. Helen in lab Thurs. 2 test for heredity. Txt if match found."**

**XXXXXXXX**

Ella sighed, returning to the photos, wishing she could ask the manservant a few questions about her mother. Wishing to know if maybe, just maybe, she next in line for Fowl Empire.

For just when Butler entered, Ella remembered where she had seen that familiar face in the photo. _"Master Artemis Fowl, scientist and inventor. Billionaire and businessman. Owner of Fowl Industries and Enterprises." _The surly celebrity certainly did resemble the young man holding her mother. Only, when she saw him on TV, he looked quite a bit older.

Shortly before eight o'clock, she slid all the collection of clipping and pictures back into the red book. All, that is, save one.

Tracing the features of Artemis Fowl with one steady finger, Ella considered the possibly of a hidden parentage. Sophie's story of her adoption had always been askew in her eyes. Could the couple clinging to each other in this faded and worn photograph be her parents? Was she Ella Fowl? Or Ella Gavin?

"_Ab __incunabulis __pinxit __primus inter pares__. __Adsum."_

"From the cradle, painted it first among equals. I am here." She recited aloud. They were the words painted above bed, a constant reminder of the things she didn't know. But in this light…this light they told her a lot. Words a father might say.

"_Special from the moment you were born, Ella. I shall watch over you." _

Was she a Fowl?

"_No." _She supposed. She would always be "Ella Iver". _"It has a nicer ring to it than _'Fowl'_."_

"_But wouldn't it be nice…?" _Sophie had always been an impeccable mother, fair, kind, understanding and open minded. But Ella wouldn't say refuse the sudden change of having father in her life.

And if Fowl was her father, why hadn't he married her mother? Why had her mother left, disgraced and disgusted? Why had Ella been "orphaned" only to be adopted, three years old, by the woman who must certainly be her biological mother? When Fowl realized she was alive, had he not wanted her?

Ella had absolutely no answers, and from as far as she could tell, none were forthcoming. The two people who could provide any sort of comfort were both stuck in Peru, on the side of a great frozen rock. Not that Ella Iver knew any of this, of course.

**XXXXXXXXX**

Rocks, as it turned out, tended to take the temperature of air round them. Which, she supposed, must be less than thirty degrees F۫. Possibly 10 degrees Celsius. Whatever the exact degrees were, it didn't matter. In the end, Sophia's bum was extremely cold. Still, she wasn't about to go indoors, in that one room shack, to be stared at by three men for the next god-knows-how-long.

Luckily, she did have sense enough to not cry. Crying might have frozen her face, quite literally. Not that she would ever do that. Cry, that is. For something that so many people claimed to make them feel good, tears made Sophie feel wretched.

Unlike other people with similar feelings towards crying, Sophia's parents had never once forbade her from crying. She had never been teased while sobbing nor had she been slapped or hit as a result of her sadness. For unexplainable reasons, Sophie just hated doing it.

Artemis finally found her after twenty minutes of waiting. He hadn't wanted to be around when she exploded from pent-up rage. Being in a similar situation himself, he understood she needed time to cool off.

Truth be told, Artemis had honestly forgotten what he had said days previous, up in the jet. When, on the narrow path, she had turned to him screaming, he hadn't the foggiest clue what she was accusing him of. Know her it could be anything from Watergate to the sky being blue. But then, of course, he remembered and regretted his words instantly. Just when they were making progress, just as they were settling into a civil relationship, he had blown it with some empty threats.

Well, empty _now. _They were never supposed to be empty, but over time he had decided against humiliating her anymore. Besides, he had reasoned, why put them both in uncomfortable situations that would just land both of them back into heartbreak? He certainly hadn't enjoyed being hated by her. She obviously loathed being within a kilometer of him. Still, he had to make her see that regardless of her hatred and his blundering mistakes, Ella could _profit_ from this. As a Fowl heir thousands of door would be open to her, opportunities thrown at her feet. Whatever career path she might choose she would succeed in. Her education would be the best, and no other child would benefit as much as the little prodigy. She would be a polymath, a psychologist, one of the most brilliant children in Europe.

However. The only thing standing between him and his prospective heir was the one this his would not be willing to crush to get to Ella: her mother. If he could only make Sophie understand that to be a Fowl heir was not to just have your name in some will, that to be a Fowl heir it took training and preparation at your guardian's side. Ella needed this, she was born for this, regardless of whether or not she was his, Artemis's, daughter. There simply was not alternative. He was sure of it. It was Ella or no one.

"Sophie." He stood just behind her, tentative (though she would never know it) and unmoving. Sophie shifted slightly to look up at him. Seeing her face dry and her eyes lacking the oh-so-telling red colour, he felt relief. Artemis was unsure of how he could deal with her crying.

The young woman refused to respond, merely turning her gaze away to look out into the night. Mist hung in the air (or was it fog?) and the sounds of grazing llamas were in the near distance.

"You should let me explain." He started quietly.

She didn't budge. Finding no other option, Artemis sat on the cold ground beside her.

"I will not force you to return to the Manor, though the offer still stands. But I need your daughter. She is perfect to inherit. You surely understand, with her intellect, that she has vast potential."

There was no refusal. Artemis continued, though he couldn't help but feel like he was digging his own grave, though in metophorical terms, of course.

"Sophia, Ella is the only option. There is no one else I would hand my family's legacy to. She stands to gain so much." Artemis paused. "The best universities, traveling to places only other children dream of, the guarantee of success in whatever she sets her mind to. Would you willingly _deny _her that opportunity? All I am asking is to…guide her education, prepare her to take on the responsibility. "

Sophie brushed a lock of hair from her face. Her face, paler than usual save for the brush of pink on her cheeks, was void of expression.

"Do you ever feel as though she needs a father?" He asked softly, staring at her with an intent expression. "It must be hard, Sophie, raising such an intelligent girl with no help. No one to lend a hand. And in the long run, how will it affect you? Surely now, you're already loosing sleep over your daughter?"

Nothing.

"Even if she is not my daughter, Ella could _be _my daughter."

Sophie looked at him, her eyes near emotionless. "How can I trust that you would be any sort of a father to her, Artemis? You barely know her. It sounds like….you make it sound like this grand plan you've thought out for her would snatch away childhood."

Artemis paused before speaking again. Now that she had at last begun to debate him, an impasse must be reached.

Before he could make his case, however, Sophie put forth a question he himself had not considered. "How can you be so sure that you, _you, _Artemis, not your legacy, not your power, not your gold, could be good for her? She needs a father, not a bank account."

She waited, holding her breath. If he could just say it, admit that he wasn't sure, that he could never be sure…because that's what the best sort of parent did. They doubted themselves every second, and in the end the results were marvelous. To be too sure, to be certain that you were doing everything right, was dangerous to both parent and child. Certainty that you had been a proper sort of parent only came after the job was complete. Artemis hadn't even _met _the girl, and he was already confident he would be the _perfect _parent for the young Iver. Still, Sophie wondered if maybe he was the solution….

Artemis never responded. In a fury Sophie rose to her feet, glaring out into the night.

"I knew it." Her breath came out in a frosty puff or warm air. She turned and stormed away, speaking with every step, practically spitting the words out. "You're not suited to be a father, Artemis. I don't know why I ever thought—for god's sake, you can't even remember to feed yourself some days. I can't believe I ever…"

By then, Artemis had caught up to her. Grabbing her shoulders, he spun her around to face them.

"You ever what?" His eyes glued on to her bright turquiose orbs, narrowed into slits. Her breath was hot on his neck.

"That I ever thought of marrying you." She spat.

To her surprise, Artemis didn't budge. Her words were daggers, her eyes ice, and he didn't even flinch. He almost seemed bored.

"Sophia, enough with the theatrics." He murmured. "It's getting cold."

"I—"

What was there to say?_ "I'm sorry you evil arse, but I'm not giving you my child"_?

"What is it you want?" He said slowly, elaborating on the word "want".

Sophie scowled at his patronizing tone. "I want to be able to choose. I don't want to be tricked or forced into handing over my guardianship. I've fought hard to keep her, Artemis. I want to do what's best for Ella. And I want to live in peace."

Unsure, Artemis was silent, still holding her back. He looked to the horizon. Nothing but dark gray rock lay before him. Dark gray rock and sky.

"We'll finish, then." He murmured.

"What?"

He released her. "You want to go on, don't you? We'll keep looking."

Sophie didn't move.

"You wanted it fair. We'll keep looking. But I won't give up on Ella, Sophie." He warned. "And you need to understand how dangerous this is without any guide. But this will give you time to consider my offer. Remember, I'm not imposing you move into the Manor nor am I forcing you to remove your guardianship from your daughter, should she become my heir."

Artemis paused. "Are you content with this situation? We continue looking and you consider my offer?"

Letting out a breath, Sophie nodded slowly. Smiling genuinely, Artemis extended his hand in truce. The young woman tentatively placed her slim hand in his outstretched tips. Leaning over, Artemis swiftly placed a kiss on her gloved fingers. Her blush deepened from flowery pink to magenta.

"Thank you."

Fowl steered her in the direction of the shack, leading her with slow strides. "You see?" He said, amused. "We can carry a civil conversation to an agreement."

"Indeed." Sophie murmured. "About time too, seeing as we're both intelligent adults."

"Both graduates of respectable universities."

"With flourishing careers."

"Most remarkable minds in our respectable fields." He added with a wink.

"Exactly." Now she also smiled easily, glad to fall into the steady teasing they were both so use to.

"It's comical, really," Artemis commented, running a hand through his already untidy jet hair (which in itself was a sight rarely seen).

"What?"

"That now you're the one pushing for the expedition. You're the one rushing off to find legendary gold cities. "

"Oh, hang your expedition."

"I would, darling," He said seriously. "If I were not afraid of falling with it."

Laughing, Sophie went to brush a wing of auburn from her face, only to have her efforts thwarted by her captor. He caught her hand as she dropped it, pressing it to her cheek, his own encompassing it. And impulse caught his mind and he spoke.

"You mustn't worry so much, Sophie." He whispered, using his other hand to tilt her chin up. "Please, trust me. What ever decision is made, your feelings and safety will always be priority and held with great regard in every choice."

She looked doubtful, her eyes wide and lips pressed together firmly.

"Please?" He pleaded softly.

After three beats (two for musing it over, one for dramatic effect) Sophie gave a gentle nod. Artemis felt utterly content in his victory and kissed her hand for a second time. He didn't let go, either, as they walked back to the shack, silent.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

The following morning found them packed and ready for the day's climb. Artemis said some quiet words to Juan, who was kind enough to draw them a crude (but precise) map with the help of Miro. With GPS and map in hand, the billionaire strapped on his packs and laced his boots, anticipating the journey as his charge said her farewells to their former guide. After one last examination, she pronounced Juan's leg to be on the road of recovery. The man took this in very good faith and patted her hand, babbling in his native tongue.

Together they left, anticipation warm in their breath. Sophie knew that with her skill and confidence their goal would rise before them. With Artemis beside her, his knowledge at her fingertips, there was no way they could fail.

A smile, cool and reassuring, graced her features as she settled into a steady stride, preparing for another day of challenges. Yes, fate would be kind to her now. He had nothing left to throw, no more cards in his hand. She and Artemis were getting along beautifully. Nothing stood in their way.

It can be quite amazing just how wrong a person can be on so many counts.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**It's too long and too dramatic, I know. **

**But that doesn't excuse you from reviewing!**

**Some parts are confusing, so don't be afraid to ask questions! There is a lot in here that is going to be cleared up later, okay? **

**And have faith, chapter 9 is over halfway DONE! I wrote it four months ago during some lazy snow day, and it will hopefully be out within two weeks. **

**Chapter 11 I wrote last week. Then I took it out this week and realized I must have been writing under the influence of something illegal, for it is CRAP! **

**Oh, don't worry, it's not going to be in that state for long. **

**Reviews would be much welcome!**

**Ewan McGregor, if he were younger and not Scottish and had dark hair, would be a perfect Artemis. Maybe he'll be cast as our Arty's father? Thoughts, comments, arguments?**

**~Dania**


	9. Of All Things Medical

What the Voice Cry

Chapter 9

All Things Medical

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Artemis Fowl. Or Harry Potter. However, Ella, Sophie, Sasha, Andreya, and Martin are all mine!

Sorry for the wait. It's been busy. Chapter 11 is in progress, and chapter 10 has yet to be written. But it's going to be a little short, kay?

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Ella eyed the cotton swab, extended from its plastic cover, suspiciously. Her tiny lips pursed, she tilted her head, considering the excuse presented before her. Her temporary guardian was amazed as to how similar the girl was to her mother when Sophie smelled guilt. The eyes narrowed to slits, the mouth becoming a flower of pink with petals pressed together tightly, the pale brow furrowing.

"Why?" She demanded. Butler gave a heavy, internal sigh. This particular word was the one most frequently used out of all in the girl's large vocabulary. _"Why?" _Why was the attic unused? Why can't I leave the grounds? Why can't I call my mother?

He knew she was educated in modern sciences, unusually so, and probably knew what mouth swabs were used for. She would most likely want to know _why _her DNA was to be tested. Regular people do not have their genetic profile reviewed often, if at all, so _why _must she? Was she ill? Did she have some inherited defect? Why?

"Because we need to know your state of genetic health."

"Why?"

"To keep you from illness."

"Why?"

"Your mother would be displeased to return to find you in poor health. As my ward, I must ensure that you stay in top form."

Her eyes narrowed. "Why are you my babysitter?"

"Your mother thought I was best for the job."

"How does my mother know you?"

"We met a long time ago. I've helped her out of a few rough patches in her career."

"And how are_ you_ qualified?"

Butler was slightly thrown to hear such an authoritative question out of such a tiny person, but he answered promptly "Madame Ko's Bodyguard Academy, youngest graduate in 30 years." And included his military service and employment record.

The kid merely sat back and yawned, pleased to see her distraction working. Ella, of course, knew why her DNA was to be tested. Or she at least suspected. Fowl wanted to know about her parentage.

It slightly surprised her, this bold and obvious interest. Motive was not clear, though she doubt it was because he wanted to meet his long-lost daughter; it was far too late for that. He probably needed to be sure it was his steps that led to that tango. No, it had to be something more…material than that. Perhaps his reputation was at stake and he needed to tie up his loose end, but he wanted to be sure that Ella was, in fact, _his _loose end. Maybe it was the money. Had her mother reveled his "mistake" and claimed to need financial aid that was long overdue? Or did Mr. Fowl simply want to know if this young girl was his?

"If you don't mind…" The large manservant extended the swab, his tone serious. Ella would clearly not get away with the distraction bit again.

The girl accepted the Q-tip, sweeping the cotton across her inner cheek slowly. Butler watched her pointedly, making sure to check the tip for dampness before dismissing her for the afternoon.

**XXXXXXX**

He was face down in the snow. His hood had fallen over his head. One arm was out stretched in the white fluff, the other lay under him. Sophie stood, glowing in triumph, only meters away. Her snowball had met its mark, directly between his shoulder blades. "_Score!"_ One for Sophia, zip Artemis. She held her hands over her head in a mock champion wave.

They had been climbing for nearly four hours. At first the cold kept them awake and alert, ready and eager for adventure. The pair spoke at length on the subjects of science, literature, foreign affairs, current economics, and the arts. Debates and monologue-style lectures occurred frequently. After a time, weary, they turn to more aggressive arguments to keep their spirits up. It was soon apparent the more steamed they became, the more energy flowed. Morals, religion, science…nothing was scared. Save the topic of Ella's fate.

Sophie continued her victory wave, mouthing _"Who's the boss now, pup?"_

When he didn't get up, Sophie's little alarms started going off. That shot shouldn't have sent him down, not even caused him to stumble, not in the physics of it. Time passed, and he didn't move. She didn't even have time to gasp. In three bounds she was beside him, knelt in the snow. Careful and swift, she turned him over onto his back. Shocked, she stumbled back and fell into the snow herself, butt-first.

Blood pooled at the fabric. His jacket, puffy and blue, perfect for scaling mountains, had a large gash in the arm. Roughly the length of her hard, it was bloody, though a clean slice. His wrist, however…it hung limp from the sleeve. Broken. The fall…he must have stumbled…with the surprise impact of her snowball causing him to plummet onto the rocks that surrounded them. He always had been slightly clumsier. Sophie groaned. Great, more guilt. She had knocked out, injured, and possibly even killed her only way home. That is, "killed" if she didn't get him in shelter and didn't stop the blood flow soon.

"_On the bright side, it's not a head or chest wound." _This thought was not necessarily helpful. The only time it would be help was if Artemis woke up and started debating with her whether or not it could have been worse.

"_What do you do now, Sophia?" _Her father's voice, loud and filled with confidence. Confidence in her ability, one that she herself was questioning at this moment.

"I…I don't know, Father." She gasped.

His silence gave her focus. "I…check the victim. I bind the wound! I find shelter…start a fire."

"_Good." _

She bent to check for breathing. Artemis was breathing fairly normally, though it was slow. Next, the pulse. That was slow, but not dangerously so. Aside from the cut on the arm, nothing else appeared to be obviously injured. Even though she knew exposing Artemis to the cold wouldn't be exactly helpful at this point, she needed to look at the wrist and cut.

It flopped pathetically downward once removed from its cuff. Sophie gently lifted it on to her lap and felt carefully. _"Most definitely broken."_ She groaned again. She was positive they had no magazines, what her father taught her to use. You were to fold the magazine in to a hot dog bun-shape, and place that on the arm and wrist, up to the knuckles. Take string or fabric strips and tie tightly once the tube was placed around the broken arm and wrist. A hard splint.

But she didn't have anything that resembled a magazine. For god's sake, why would she?! She was on top of a mountain in South America, no where near a periodical stand!

By some odd spark of luck, there was a pathetic sapling to the left of there position. Stumbling through the snow, Sophie reached it in a longer time then necessary, torn it from the rocky dirt, and stumbled back to her guide. Surprisingly swift, she removed all roots and excess branches from the stick and snapped it in half. In a few more moments (and with the help of some sacrificed shirts), Sophie had the stick tied in a makeshift splint for Artemis's wrist. With the leftover rags of one of the shirts, she blotted and bound the gash.

Looking around, Sophie spotted an outcropping for rocks. There was a black, shadowy hole in the stones. It was far enough away to make difficulty in dragging Artemis. Climbing would be involved. But they had to get to shelter, and soon. While it was midday, she wanted to get him awake and ready to retreat before night fall. Even if he took three hours, they could get a decent head start.

She lugged off their packs, leaving them by a large rock (possibly the one Artemis had fallen on). It didn't take much it scoop the man up and prop him carefully up on the sleigh of backpacks. She was lucky that they didn't have a huge weight difference between them. Sophie straightened as best as she could, grunted, and began the long trek up to the rocks. All the while she prayed that there was some form of decent shelter up there between those rocks. The temperature was dropping quickly.

Sophie winced as the icy wind slapped her already-frozen cheeks. They were probably red, chapped, and on their way to being completely numb. Gods, she did hope Artemis did pack some sort of moisturizer. Her boots, specially designed to grip the snow yet give plenty of friction, made loud _"cru-unch"_ing sounds as she treaded up the steep slope, pulling more than twice her body weight through lily-white snow that had never before been disturbed by human feet.

Twenty minutes later, she dropped, exhausted on the cave floor. There _was_ a cave up there. It was shallow, not more than 13 meters deep. Something more similar rock shelter. But it would do. She shook Artemis off. Without him, the trip back down to the remaining packs would take only ten minutes, maybe less. Lifting a hand up to wipe some sweat away from her face, her hand came back with blood. She felt again. A slash, very shallow. There was no time to fix that now; she had to get the gear. Besides, it wasn't that bad.

In another twenty minutes she was back up. Both packs, while heavy, were significantly easier to carry than dragging the billionaire. Artemis hadn't moved. Sighing, Sophie pulled out the gray cube from Artemis's pack. Turning it around in her hands, Sophie searched for the button.

Artemis had developed specialized camping tools in anticipation of their trip. Sophie suspected he had been so excited, he made a list of traditional camping must-haves to update, and tackled the challenges one at a time. Digital, efficient, nuclear or solar battery powered, compact, laser fed…the list of improvements when on. When he tossed the gray box into the bag, he had explained that it was virtually a fire in a cube. Much like a space heater, though it was an actual fire. When opened, the flame arose and was fed with a faux wood that burned a fourth gram an hour, and gave off a glowing, cheery heat. The only problem now was how to activate it. Artemis hadn't explained how to operate the machine.

It took three very frustrating minutes to activate the device. As it turned out, the bottom right corner pushed in to cause the sides to collapse and the machine to beep. Sophie gritted her teeth when it finally flickered into life. This was time they could not afford to waste. But there was no point in dwelling in it now—Artemis was getting warm and that was all that mattered.

Then she turned to his arm. As she lifted the bloodied limb, Sophia Iver felt a flash of guilt. Logic told her this was the first thing she should have attended to. Instead she had dealt with the problem that would affect them both if unresolved. _"Shut it." _She mentally scolded. _"He won't know, and you need to take care of the fire, anyhow. It's not like he's dying."_

Well, hopefully not dying. His chest rose and fell a little more slowly then it should have. The blood had stopped, clotted and crusted brown on his pale arm. What she needed to do now was….clean the wound. Set the wrist. Stitch the gash up. Keep him asleep. They could leave tomorrow, or the day after, but he needed sleep. Sleep healed the body fastest, besides, it looked like Master Fowl had missed more than a couple "z"s as of late.

With the help of the tiny first aid kit, Sophie alcohol-ed the cut. From that point, she was lost. Nobody thought to put the tools for deep wounds in these things, how was she suppose to close the gash? The wide laceration looked nasty. She could, when she looked, see the yellow fatty tissue. It was deep enough that she knew stitches were the only thing that would close it, but there was no needle. Dental floss, sure, but small, sharp, pointy object with an eye to pull the dental floss through? She wondered if she was cursed. If it was her destiny to kill Artemis, or at least make him suffer through Hell on Earth, she was living up to it, quite well, too. Because she was doing an excellent job for a person not even trying. _"First she breaks him, then she can't even find a way to fix him. Stupid, idiotic, immature girl." _

Desperate for anything, Sophie dug through the two packs, praying that one of them had been stupid enough to pack a travel sewing kit. She was in luck. Artemis, as it turned out, had been the one to pack the previously unnecessary thread and needle.

While she hated to put him though even more physical pain, the stitches needed to be inserted, and his wrist needed to be set. Gritting her teeth, Sophie punctured the pale skin of his arm and closed the two sides of flesh together. Artemis flinched, but remained cataleptic

Once the thread was neatly tied and the excess blood wiped away, she moved on to his wrist. It had bruised, swelled, and was obviously misshapen in this lighting.

The point of the split was to keep it from painfully jostling while she dragged him up to the rock crevice. If it healed in the position it was in right now, Artemis would be left with a stiff, nearly unusable wrist. He wouldn't be able to rotate it, or move it in away way.

"_Why didn't he just invent a mini X-ray?" _She thought, scowling as she felt the wrist. _"The Gods know we both stumble enough to need one."_

But they didn't _have _a mini X-ray, and she needed to stop mentally whining. Sighing and closing her eyes, Sophie gathered her thoughts and felt the wrist. If Artemis had been awake, he would have been screaming as she rotated the hand, feeling the bones with her fingers. It was a clean break, thank the Gods. If it had fragmented…she hated to think of the results.

"Okay," She murmured. "Okay. Feel the break, set the bone, and bind the area….what to…?"

Now it was time to set the bone. That was the worst part. Had Artemis been awake, she would have given him a rock to squeeze, or even her hand. Had it been her hand, their comfort would have been shared. Sophie had only set a bone once, Sasha's when they were eight and four, respectively. They had been playing in the orchard, and Sasha, already the adventurous one, had climbed a tree (it was, albeit, a fairly small tree, she was only four). She had gotten up so high…Sophia, cautious and a natural worrier, had stood at the base of the trunk, biting her small pink lips, shouting up "I don't think Papa would like this…and Mama said we need to be home by noon. It's already one-thirty."

**XXXXXXXXXXXXX**

"_No it's not!" Sasha called down, sticking out her tongue. _

_Sophie defiantly replied (in the most nerdy way possible for an eight-year-old), "Yes, it is! The sun is exactly seventy-four degrees from the west horizon, therefore-" _

_Then she quite realized that she wasn't getting to the point, which was that her clumsy younger sibling should get out of the tree before she severely injured herself. _

"_You need to come down! We're going to get in trouble, Sassy, and you could fall-"_

_That was exactly when her sister made contact with the ground._

_Young Miss Iver had decided to try out a very thin and very springy limb that branched out over the path where Sophie stood. Her plan had been to swing down from her knees, monkey-style, to impress her sister. In her four-year-old-mind, this made sense. Perfect sense. In the law of physics, however, it did not. The weak branch bent the moment she stepped on it with her tiny, pink tennis-shoed foot. Down she plummet, hitting the harsh muddy ground with a dull "thud". _

_Sophie shrieked and flung herself on her baby sister. "Sassy!" _

_The younger girl sat up as best she could, sobbing. Her favourite shirt had streaks of mud on the front, and her arm hurt so bad…_

_Sophie recoiled, having seen the damaged limb. It was very odd looking indeed, bent at an all too wrong angle. The sight was so awful, Sophie thought she might throw up, but her sister took that task instead, spewing her breakfast of toast and apple jam. Sophie took another step backwards. _

_Once her sister had entirely emptied her tummy, Sophie approached again, offering aid. Sasha howled, making it very difficult to understand what she was saying. Finally, after about five minutes, she calmed enough to explain that just her arm and bum hurt, that she thought that maybe both were broken. Sophie didn't believe that anyone could _break_ their butt, so she focused on the more obvious problem: her sister's broken arm._

_It took a lot of time remembering, a while to find the break, some time to prepare themselves and even more time gathering the tools, but finally they set Sasha's arm and sling it. The house was a thirty minute walk from the orchard and therefore a long one for a pair little girls, but they finally made it, at nearly exactly 2 o'clock, two hours late from the time their mother instructed them home. There they found Andreya on the couch snoozing away the early afternoon. With some encouraging screams and nudges in the ribs, the girls woke her up enough to drive them to the nearest hospital. _

_While waiting for the nurse, the girls discussed the event. _

"_You're an idiot." Sophie announced, as through it were all-around agreed and final. _

_Sasha's lower lip quivered. "I am not!" She shouted. _

"_Yes you are!" Her sister insisted. "The obvious strength of the branch couldn't hold your weight, plus with the way you were bouncing—you're an id-"_

"_That's enough." Andy snapped. She pushed a pouting Sophie (very offend, having been interrupted) into the corner furthest from the bed. Then she turned her youngest. "Sassy, that wasn't the smartest thing, true, you're cost Mummy a lot of money to fix you up. And you could've been hurt worse-"_

"_Worse?" the girl whimpered. _

"_-Not to mention how much you scared your sister. Darling, you really mustn't do such dangerous things! Next time Sophie might not be there. So don't be so—"_

"_You think I'm stupid too!" Sasha accused, eyes growing large._

"_No, darling!" Andy said, horrified, jumping up to sit on the side of the bed to cradle her daughter. "You're certainly not stupid. You helped your sister remember how to set your arm, didn't you? Darling, you are not stupid, though, maybe a tad foolish…but everyone is, sometimes, lovie." _

**XXXXXXXXXXX**

Artemis woke with a stiff back, throbbing arm, and prickling head. He could hear the clear crackling of an open flame, feel his stone-cold nose, and smell wetness. Although he didn't open his eyes for nearly ten minutes, he knew he must be in some sort of crude shelter, most likely one consisting of stone. The echo of the dull sounds clearly indicated rock. To his right he could hear deep, even breathing. Sophie. His captive-turned-crusader. Slowly, unsure of his current physical condition or location, he sat up, opening his eyes.

It was, indeed, a rock shelter. Though, perhaps not deep enough to be called a cave. _"Rock crevasse"_ was a much more fitting term. Looking out of the mouth, Artemis noted that it was evening, the sky being dark and cold, void of stars. So the sky was still overcast. "_Pity."_ He hoped it might clear up before dawn, the pair would need the head start. Their destination was still about two day's hike from their location. Silent, he mentally planned out their journey.

That is, until he reached up to pull off his cap, only to discover the splint restraining his hand. Reeling back, Artemis rolled back his sleeve, revealing the crude stick-and-shirt device tied from his elbow up to his scraped knuckle.

_What _had _happened?_ How had this…? He searched his mind for his last memory, only to recall Sophie's light laugh, and a soft "_thud" _on his back. Then an impact with the cold, hard white. And a snapping pain in his arm. After that, he was right back to five minutes ago, waking up on a pile of backpacks.

He turned to observe the cavern before him. With a flash of pride, he saw that Sophie had set up his portable, quick-start flame in the center of the circle she had configure out of packs and camping supplies. As for the woman in question… she was curled up underneath a poly-fiber blanket in the furthest corner of the room. Artemis's bloodstained jacket rested under her head as a makeshift pillow. She snored lightly in a smooth rhythm. Though he was tempted to wake her, Artemis's guilt won and he left her to her dozing.

Perhaps an hour was passed staring into the fire. Tired and weak, Artemis hadn't the heart to either search for food, or eat without Sophie. As time went by he leaned more and more heavily on his uninjured arm, till he was only hanging onto consciousness by his pinkie finger.

"Art..mus?"

Startled, he jumped into awareness, swinging around to face the makeshift bed instantly. Feeling very untidy, Artemis swept a hand through his rumpled hair and pulled on the hem of his t-shirt.

Not the he need to worry; Sophie's appearance was enough to cause any stylist to grimace. Her hair was very oily from many days without showering. Eternal green eyes were red and thick, purple hoops encompassed them. Skin that was normally moon-pale white was now deathly ashen. The graceful nose and cheeks were scattered with a sharp pink, as though they had been slapped savagely, repeatedly. A few scrapes lined her jaw and her knuckles.

Regardless of how homeless she appeared, she was still the most striking woman he knew and she held his attention unquestionably. Artemis moved to kneel beside her. Sophie pushed herself up easily to look him over with an intent medic's eye.

Fingering the splint, she asked softly "Does it hurt much?"

"No." He replied as soon as he finished wincing as the young woman slid a finger along the stitches that marred his smooth skin. Rolling those oh-so-heartbreaking eyes, Sophie yanked a pack from the pile that surrounded her and dug through its contents until her fingers made contact with her goal. Triumphant, the weary girl unscrewed the plastic bottle to place three little blue pills in her palm.

"Lying is one of the seven sins." She chanted, grinning.

"As is lust and greed, but it seems we've both fallen off the wagon." Artemis held her gaze until she let it slide to the flask to his left. Getting the message, he politely handed it to her. Sophie thrust the meds into his usable hand and poured him a shallow cup. After he'd properly administered the drugs under her careful eye, Sophie stood carefully.

"You hungry?"

Artemis nodded, following her to the fire. Together they rummaged through the food pack to find the bread she ordered at the inn, some tea, and some canned soup. Sophie found that this was satisfactory and began bustling around the flame. Her former captor watched quietly. The simple scene secretly pleased him. Sophie wasn't any sort of cook but she did have that maternal, home-settling sort of nature. Every bed must be made, every baseboard dusted, the curtains ironed, the rugs vacuumed, and shoes polished. She wasn't any sort of neat freak; no, she was horridly absent-minded and very unorganized. Still, somehow she had that natural draw to make any place feel like home.

"What happened, Sophie?" He asked abruptly. Sophie glanced up from her stirring.

"You don't remember?"

"Not entirely," Artemis confessed, her blush and look of relief not escaping his notice.

"I…" Her colouring envied that of a ripe strawberry. "…threw a snow ball at you after that last remark on Darwin's revision. I mean, between that and how you completely brushed aside Mr. Hawking's 2004 theory—"

"That's because it was unreasonable! I mean, factoring in the equation of the wavelengths and the property of the objects, not to mention the mass and pull of the—he was completely—"

"Enough about the physics of the thing, that wasn't the point!"

He scowled, convinced that he was right and if given the time and resources, he could easily prove his theory's worth. Sophie sat patiently, fingering the cuff of her shirt. "Are you done?" The scowl softened, allowing her to start again.

"So I hit you, _accidentally, _too hard. Or maybe it just surprised you. But you stumbled and fell onto something." She reached up to touch the discolouring bruise on his jaw. "I'm so sorry. What better way to cripple this little treasure hunt than to cripple you?" Her guilty grin was returned with ease.

Looking down at his arm, Artemis gave a low chuckle. "These things do happen quite often with you around, I must say. Do you recall the time you stabbed me in the chest with a bookmark?"

Sophie laughed, leaning closer. "Aw, but that was a mistake! You shouldn't have been creeping into my bedroom at three a.m."

"It was actually eleven." He said pointedly. "And you had stolen my book on Russian architecture. You knew I was right in the middle of it, Sophie, you shouldn't have stolen it. Besides, who goes to sleep at eleven while on holiday?"

"I do. Either way, you shouldn't be intruding."

"You shouldn't have stabbed me."

"You scared me! Creeping up on me like that, pulling the book out of my hands, I thought I was being attacked!"

Artemis amused, touched the scar concealed under his shirt. "Dagger-shaped stainless steal bookmark. Convenient."

"It's entirely blunt. A gift, from my uncle." Sophie smiled. _To pierce your heart with a love of reading._ "And I said I was sorry ages ago."

"Hm." Artemis continued stroking his scar. Sophie's eyes alighted on the gesture.

"Can I see it?"

Artemis frowned. Sophie hadn't seen his naked chest in years, and hadn't, in fact, seen it at all until long after they'd broken up. Most rare sightings had been by mistake, though he never missed the look of appreciation she shot his abs (thanks to the discovery of the Bowflex via satellite television). The curious doe-eyes she was sending him eventually won through and he lifted his shirt up to the very bottom of his rib cage.

There it was. A jagged, lightening-shaped, pearly white patch of puckered skin below his right lung. From the shape you could see that she had stabbed, then jerked the blade around , which gave the scar its serrated outline. He had considered himself lucky that she had not aimed to kill, though she denied that later as she cleaned his wound.

**XXXXXXXX**

_He was ecstatic to be able to go to bed before midnight. All the papers, the piles and piles of paper, had been cleared in anticipation of his former lover's visit. It was her second day, but he'd manage to steamroll his way through the mass of work in the evenings, while spending the daylight hours with her. True, she wasn't exactly thrilled to be there and she avoided his company at all cost, but that didn't deter the weary young man. Much. _

_Since he now had a few hours before bed, he hoped to spend them in bed finishing a thrilling text on Russian architecture through the last five hundred years. When he reached his study, adjacent to his office, the tome was not to be found. His brow furrowing, he turned about the room searching the shelves and flat surfaces with a swift glance. Where could it have disappeared to? The last he remembered of it was flipping through it this afternoon…Sophie had slipped into the room sullenly, per his request. He recalled her fiddling with the book as he made some pathetic attempt at conversation. She must have taken it with her._

_Though he was very hesitant to, Artemis left the study to take the series of stairs and hallways to his guest's bedroom. His Rolex told him it was almost exactly eleven. Sophie would probably be awake and very displeased by the sight of him, but the draw of a good read won out over the fear of her anger. _

_Artemis stopped before her door to give three quick raps upon the polish wood. There was no reply. After thirty seconds, he knocked again but again there was nothing but silence. _

_Two choices were before him: He could leave and simply request the book tomorrow, spending a restless night without his preferred reading or he could "sneak" (he used the term loosely; it was his home, after all) into her chamber and fetch said preferred reading. Sophie, with her scattered thoughts, would be none the wiser. _

_The door swung silently on it hinges. Artemis eased himself into the room, crossed to the second threshold, and peered in the open door. _

_Sophie was propped up by several pillow, the book lay closed in her grasp. The lamp was on and both sets of high arched window were open. Sheer curtains fluttered with every puff of warm air. Artemis tentatively crossed to her bed. Yes, she was asleep, deeply as well. Soft snores came with every exhale. While Sophie was no light sleeper, Artemis still moved with complete control. Gently, he pried the volume from her rigor mortus-like grip. _

_Swifter than a viper, one moon pale hand shot out, darting forward thrust a flashing blade into his abdomen. She pulled on the blade, slicing through the flesh as though it were butter. Artemis staggered back, hands flying to his fresh wound. The book fell with a soft _"thud" _to the carpeted floor. Sophie sat up, eyes dark and sparking with fury. A slim, gleaming dagger rested in her hand, flashing in the lamp light. _

_Unfortunately for her host-turned-victim, Artemis had stumbled outside of the line of lamplight. Sophia slid out of bed, hissing _"Wrong room, buddy."

_An angled kick behind the knees crippled him further. He fell back onto the chaise lounge beside the window, a low moan escaping his lips. If he lived through tonight, he would've leaned his lesson; no sneaking into his former fiancée's rooms in the dead of night, not if he wanted to live to see thirty. _

_The lovely, albeit sleepy, young woman loomed over him. Her eyes were hooded and filled with rage. The dagger was raised and ready. It was steady in her hands, leaving nobody in doubt: Sophie Iver knew just how to use that particular weapon and probably had occasion to use it before, if her firm grip was any indication. _

_Fate sometimes pities her victims. She apparently did that night, for if the clouds had not moved at that exact moment Artemis might not have walked away that night with all body parts attached. The moon shone down fiercely on his face, almost as though it wanted to reveal him, save him. Sophie let out a quick, high-pitched gasp that was much more like a scream. Dropping the dagger, she backed away, eyes wide with horror. _

_Artemis watched her, hands still applying pressure to his abdomen. He let out long, even breaths, attempting in vain to regain control of his feature. When he let out a particularly long stream of air, he moaned again, pushing into his puncture. _

"_Artemis." Sophie whispered, moving closer tentatively. The young man struggled to sit up, wincing. She moved quickly to help him. "Oooh. I'm so sorry—it's—oh, Artemis!"_

_She stared helplessly at his hand. Blood seeped between the cracks his fingers made. "I need to see it." _

_He nodded, exhaling slowly, keep his eyes on her steadily. Artemis knew her well enough to know she wouldn't try anything while he was still down, but he was still wary. He was a little concerned about the forth coming lecture as to why he mustn't creep into her room past nine o'clock. _

_Seeing he wasn't going to let her off so easily, Sophie sighed heavily and began unbuttoning his shirt. After pushing the finely woven blue fabric back (Armani, cotton-silk blend, blue-on-blue stripe) she internally groaned to find a second garment of an undershirt. After easing that up, she examined his wound. _

_It was slightly jagged, probably from when he pulled back. The blood had not yet stopped flowing. From what she could see it wasn't quite deep enough to merit stitches, but would still require immediate care. Rolling her eyes, Sophie leaned over to grab a few tissues from the nearest side table. _

"_Apply pressure evenly and use more if these get soaked through." She stated, almost recited. Her victim watched as she moved to the wall beside the door, pushing the smooth black button that activated the intercom. After a few minutes of speaking softly into the box, she turned to Artemis. "Do you think you can walk?"_

"_I don't think that would be the best idea." Her calm stare broke though and he sighed. "No, I cannot walk." _

_She turned back to the Butler on line to receive some form of conformation. Nodding, Sophie broke the connection to swing back around agitatedly to face Artemis. "I'm to keep you here." She said in a dull voice, nostrils flaring. "Butler is coming up with Juliet. They're bringing '_The Bag'_" _

"The Bag" _was said with air quotations and great sarcasm. He knew what this mysterious bag was, as well as what it contained, though apparently Butler or Juliet (whomever was on the line) hadn't included any adjectives in describing the bag. _

"_Do you keep morphine in the fridge?" _

_Artemis blinked. As unusual as the question was, it did make sense. Neither was sure if the wound needed such a strong painkiller to close it. He hoped he wouldn't need something so strong for such a small wound. But they still weren't sure if she'd nicked any organs. But he doubted they would ever use it. Still, it was always good to clear the options. "Yes."_

_A few minutes were spent in silence. Artemis kept pressure on his wound and Sophie kept an eye on him. At one point, she began pacing around his chair, mumbling under her breath. He found it rather irritating and was about to say so when he caught the end of her murmur: _"-lucky it was only a bookmark_." _

"_A _bookmark?_" He sat up rather suddenly, grimacing as he instantly regretted it. "What was a bookmark?"_

_Sophie glanced up. Her eyes flickered to his slash, then back to his face. Wordlessly, she strode to the edge rug to bend down. When she straightened up, the dagger was back in her hands. She twirled it slowly in her fingers, eyeing the blood now staining the gleaming blade. _

"_My uncle gave this to me." She said quietly. "I was eight. He said it was _'to pierce my heart with a love of reading'_. He was a librarian before he met my aunt." _

_Artemis stared incredulously. "A bookmark?"_

_Sophie grinned. "Think about it. I've been trained in how to use these since I was able to walk. How else to entice a stubborn child? It was rather genius. That was before I ever really embraced learning." _

"_So I've been…" He couldn't even finish the statement. _

"_-mortally wounded by a bookmark?" She smirked. "Better that than, say, copy paper. Or romaine lettuce." _

_Artemis rolled his eye heavily, but she could tell that he was amused. They had always made jokes about his lack of strength and general delicacy. From the small smile that sometimes appeared on his face, Sophie often felt that she was missing half the joke, even to the ones she made. _

**XXXXXXX**

Fingers, feather-light and moon pale, traced the ruined flesh. Guilt pricked her mind, but she tucked it away to focus on her mistake. Artemis shivered under her touch. Sophie looked up to meet his eye, her own filled with curiosity.

He found that this was a nice change. Her eyes now hardly revealed any loathing, hatred, or any other negativity. Lately he'd only seen concern, curiosity, and amusement reflected in those blue-green orbs. And he loved it. Sophie hadn't been so…receptive to his graciousness since their break.

She awaited her answer patiently, eyes never evading his gaze.

"Your hand…they're a bit cold." He said.

As any kind person would, she drew back, but Artemis latched onto her wrist with his good arm.

"But that's perfectly fine." Artemis whispered, leaning closer.

Sophie responded by rising up from her crouch, supporting herself with her knees as he did. He released his shirt, allowing the soft black fabric to fall over his pale torso. His good hand slid up her arm as smoothly as silk against air. The limb stopped at her elbow, caressing the place where the joint bent with his thumb.

"I—"

"Sophie." Artemis used the fingers of his bad hand to stroke her ashen cheek. They were warm. He was sure now the pink under her flesh wasn't caused by the cold now, but rather the sudden intimacy of his touch. Kneeling, she was a head lower than him. With careful grace she outlined his jaw with one finger, lips parted and eyes glazed. The young man's hands slid to her waist. Sophie gasped at the sensual touch, then nearly moaned openly when his lips grazed her jaw, traveling down her neck to the hollow resting there.

"_Just kiss me damn it."_ She wanted to yell, feeling entirely tormented. Dizzy, breathless, and more than a little flustered, the young female was leaning against him heavily. _"Just-"_

Artemis pulled his head back, then lowered it to rest less than a feather's width from her mouth. Cruelly, his warm breath caressed her lips. Sophie wanted to make some sound, a moan perhaps, but refused to move. This time he would be the first to act. He would be the one to blame, if they ended regretting this.

As carefully as though she were a butterfly, Artemis sat back, pulling Sophie with him onto his lap. She wanted to hit him, she was so sick of this teasing. Only when he felt settled did he finally kiss her. All thoughts of annoyance flew out of her head. Sophie clung on to Artemis's slim shoulders with the grip of a drowning person, pushing herself closer.

Needless to say, their canned soup burned.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Whaddya think? To Fluffy? Comments please! **

**~Dania**


	10. It's Not Really a City, You See

**Chapter 10**

**I know, I know it's been forever. Please forgive me, for I am very, entirely, truly sorry. Life has gotten so busy. Hopefully with the 09-10 school year coming to a close, updates will be more frequent.**

Sophie woke up, wonderfully warm and content. She rolled to her left, opened her eyes, and found her face mere centimeters from her captor's face. Giving a low squeak, she pushed herself away, throwing the blankets off her torso. Then, realizing just how cold it was outside of his company, Sophie lowered herself down to lie next to Artemis. Besides, there wasn't any real reason to move away, not really. Not after what happened last night.

He looked fairly innocent, young, with his arms folded under his head. The injured arm was underneath, safe and unaffected. Both body and head faced her, mouth slightly agape, muscles relaxed in sleep.

While he was in such a relaxed position, Sophie studied his features. The age had melted from his face. Oh, lines were still there, but they were not as sharp, not as defined. Dark circles, once under his blue-black eyes, were faded, like light bruises. His mouth hung slightly open, breath coming in and out softly in a constant rhythm that was relaxing to hear (she was surprised her own breath was going at the same beat and quickly stopped it). Raven hair obscured parts of his nearly colourless face. Strands of iron and steely gray were mixed in with the jet black. The effect the colours gave was almost sort of dashing. Handsome, even.

She lay like that for some time, matching her breath to his unconsciously again. Artemis didn't move in the slightest. Sophie suspected he was one of those light sleepers who fell asleep and never rolled, or kicked of the blankets, or put themselves in any discomfort whatsoever. It made sense, in a way, that Artemis would exert the same control he focused on awake into his slumbering habits. She always managed to wake up without her pillows or comforter.

A glimmer in the "V" of his shirt caught her eye. Lightly, easily, slowly, so as not to disturb her captor, she lifted a black loop of cord from out between the fabric of the shirt and pale skin of Artemis's chest. Tied to the end, as though it were a weight, hung a perfect golden disk. Its diameter was about equal to the length of her thumb from tip to where the digit met the rest of the hand. Thin as a wafer, the pendant had a flawless round hole in the center. Sophie brought it closer to her face. The hole was laser cut, and she could now see tiny symbols around the very edge of the disk. These were also laser cut. She couldn't recognize them as any alphabet she knew. An acorn. A dragonfly. A crab. A crescent moon. A wheel. Familiar, but then not. Sophie's fingers traced the sloped edge of the disk. It occurred to her that it was possibly some sort of coin, or even a CD. Whatever it was, Artemis had been wearing it for some time, if the worn cord was any indication. However, the pendant itself wasn't scratched too badly, or chipped at all. Was it real gold? Sophie closed her palm around it, warming the metal, scooting closer to Artemis.

Eventually, the young woman drifted off again. Her hand still clutched the pendant. Neither moved as they dozed, and the night passed around them, the cold settling in like a blanket over a sleeping child, snug and tight.

**XXXXXXX**

It was the tug on his neck that woke him. Or he was fairly certainly it was the tug. It could have easily been the elbow in his ribs, or the legs between his own. Possibly even the heat. He was horridly hot.

However it had happened, he was awake now. Not necessarily happy about it, but there you are. He watched the sleeping woman beside him. Sophie was the type of sleeper who frequently moved. Unfortunately for him, she had turned while still holding his fairy coin. He had been pulled, his head resting on her shoulder, spooning his former captive. And Sophie kept pulling. Artemis had woken up before his brain failed from lack of air, strangled inadvertently by his most beloved possession. And he meant the young woman, not the jewelry. His.

Which is what she was. Now. Sophie was his, just like she was always meant to be. Yes, it had taken awhile, delayed by nearly a decade of her damn obstinate refusals. She had danced along the edge enough. He'd laid his claim on her long ago; all he needed was a bit more time to make her see his way. Sophie had already given the reigns a great deal of slack. If she let her hands slip only a bit more…he would have but to only say the right words. Sophia could be open to persuasion easily enough.

Artemis untangled himself, stroking her neck as he unwound the cord from her hands. Sophie murmured in her sleep. Something that sounded like "But the momentum isn't equal to the force, you need to refigure the formula, Dr—" He smiled. She wasn't as ignorant of science and mathematics as she pretended.

Though he was temped with getting up, for he was quite hot, Artemis knew they wouldn't have time like this for much longer. They would return home, his parents would be there and such displays would be unseemly. He really ought to get in as much as he could, before their time was cut short.

He buried his nose in her thick hair and inhaled. Even without proper sanitation, she smelled _fantastic._ Lavender, sage, and lilys. Then something personal, something entirely her…Sophia murmured again, and snuggled closer. "Artemis…darn you." Her voice was loud and clear. Artemis paused from his affectionate nuzzling to listen to her protests.

"Why do… "

Artemis opened his mouth to protest, then shut it to listen again.

"...my life been ruined enough by your…"

This sounded a little over-dramatic, even for his Sophie. She was dreaming. Artemis propped himself up on one elbow to watch her. Eyes closed, lips twitching, Sophia looked entirely darling. "…involvement? My fault…"

Then she was silent. Artemis gently touched her jaw, willing her to speak further, but Sophie wouldn't let him have it that easily. Even in her sleep, she managed to thwart his simple desires. It was like that particular quality was programmed into her at birth. She slept on, Artemis watching over her until he sunk into a nap of his own.

Artemis woke again less than an hour later. He was cold again, colder than he had been before. When he opened his eye he discovered an empty spot beside him, the shape of a head still indented in the travel pillow. The scent of sage remained in the microfiber. For a moment, he was confused, dazed, then it hit him that Sophie was gone. Her jerked forward into a sitting position. "Sophia?" His voice was hoarse, and he could feel sticky mucus in the back of his throat. _Disgusting. _"Soph-"

There she was—by the fire. Her back hunched, blanket around her, Sophie look not alike the village hermit, the crazy outcast woman who hears voices. But that was not her. However, the pose reminded him of someone else closely related to his Sophie. Sasha Iver.

Artemis flinched. If Ella was their child was her aunt's condition hereditary? Would Ella hear voices? Confuse reality with fantasy? He gave an involuntary shudder. How would Sophie react if her daughter was diagnosed with the same disease that killed her sister? Ella couldn't have it, she wouldn't. Even if she wasn't his he had to—

"Artemis?"

Sophie was facing him now. She had found something to tie her hair back with, for it was out of her face. The fire emitted sharp crackling sounds, making her start. Artemis hid a smile, and Sophie blushed. To act so very jumpy, she was acting like a silly school girl. Why, why, _why _was she behaving like a teenager with a crush? She knew Artemis, she loathed Artemis, they were the of best friends and the best enemies. But why was she so nervous?

"I'm sorry if I woke you. "

"In an indirect way." He smiled. "I was cold."

Sophie smiled back, and offered forward breakfast. Bread, and a can of last night's soup. Artemis moved to the fire, accepting the food quietly. He ate without either of them speaking. When he had emptied his soup can, he sat back, cradling his wounded arm. He coughed, and Sophie leaned forward with a look of concern on her face. Waving his hands as if to say _"No, no, leave me be!" _So she settled back, listening. It was not a wet cough, thank the gods. She suspected it to be something caught in his windpipe, rather than some virus. If it was a virus, they needed to get down, back to civilization.

When he finished, she poked the fire with her hiking stick (while that's not what the thing was made for, but she needed some sort of poker) and waited.

"We should pack soon." Artemis started, wiping his mouth. "Light doesn't last very long around here, we'll need all the time we can get to trek back down."

"What?" Sophie did a double take. "Go back down?"

Artemis blinked. "Ah, yes, Sophie." He coughed again. "I don't think either of us is in any condition to continue."

"But—you've been planning this for ages! The kidnapping, the resources, the mountain conditions, everything! Artemis, we've come so far…"

"Every explorer needs to know when to stop, Sophie." He sounded weary, stern. "Too many have lost it all, just when their on the brink, because they pushed themselves too hard, too far, too fast. It's time to go home, Sophie. I wanted it even more than you, but I'm getting old. I'm not the young chap I use to be, darling."

This was entirely out of character. Artemis Fowl _never _surrendered. He didn't give up, he didn't walk away from any challenge. It wasn't in his nature. Artemis had not learned losing when he was a child. He didn't lose. The concept of losing never occurred to him, which is why he never lost.

Yet he was giving up! Running away. And it made Sophie want to scream and yell, and force him to go on, continue, finish, lead her! That's what he did.

"We can't quit." She said fiercely. "No, not after all of this! We've worked too hard."

"It's done, Sophia." She always hated it when he said her name like that. "The chances are not good, the conditions are against us. To continue would be dangerous."

"Dangerous? You're lecturing me on danger?" Her voice was heavy with sarcasm, eyes half-lidded, dangerously narrow.

"I wasn't lecturing you."

"You're the big risk-taker. Supposedly. I don't see why we can't go, Artemis."

He lifted his injured arm, eyes rolling. "Sophie, I won't argue with you on this. We are leaving." He made her sound like a child, uncooperative, bratty, inconvenient child

"No."

"Excuse me?"

"Just stay one more day, Artemis. One more."

"Sophie—it's not safe—"

"What can happen in one day?"

"Exactly. What can happen? Nothing! Nothing good. One day is enough to destroy lives." He snapped. "We'll get nowhere. I'll be slowing us down and God knows where the damn place is."

"One day!"

"We cannot find the passage in one day, Sophie! In these mountains, it's impossible."

"Thousands have sought it, Artemis," She leaned forward, whispering. "Thousands have searched, and tried. We can find it. Whether it's one day or one hundred, we'll find it. Please, I feel…I feel like we can succeed. I know we can."

He stared at her. Had she completely lost it? She wasn't one to rely on mere feelings, her guide was her head in these situations, typically. "Sophie, you don't understand-"

"Don't say that!" She snapped. "You always assume that I don't understand, or I can't comprehend, or I'm just too disagreeable to be explained! I do understand, and I can comprehend, for gods' sake, just _trust me!_"

At the second "_I do understand" _she had begun yelling, so that by time she hit _"trust me", _a ringing echo was left in the silence. Artemis was left staring at her, eyes frozen. Sophie had turned, back facing him.

"Did you ever think," She started quietly. "That the reason we've never been able to make it together is because we're both horrid liars, who each think they know what's best for the other?"

There was a long, heavy pause before Artemis answered, "Yes."

"Why couldn't…why couldn't we have done it, though? It's so easy, listening."

"Maybe it was just easier listening to ourselves, our wants, than each other's."

Sophie sighed. "We're supposed to be smarter than that, Artemis Fowl."

"I know."

There was a pause, giving them time to collect this revelation. Then—

"—Well?"

Artemis didn't break his silence, merely stared into the flames flickering red, orange, yellow and purple. Fire, as primitive as it was, had always captured his interest. As a child he had wondered what made the colors, what made the flames dance. When he was old enough to know the chemical process involved in making the flame, he almost felt disappointed, cheated. Still, even with the magic and wonder gone, the reaction of the wood and the fire kept him enchanted, even if the process was nothing but a mere formula.

"Two days." His eyes never strayed from the flame. "Two days and we return."

Sophie held her breath. He was giving her even more time than she bargined for. "And Ella?"

Of course. The girl. Their wager. Artemis wasn't sure what to tell her. He still wanted to see the girl, regardless of if she was his daughter. She could still be an heir—he couldn't imagine anyone but Sophie's child inheriting the Fowl empire.

He looked at his captive. "Our arrangement is still valid."

She nodded, and turned away to begin packing. Unfair as the agreement might be, she wasn't going to risk it. The adventure had caught her up, the mystery had drawn her in. Sophie wasn't sure what she could stand to gain in this journey, but she knew what she could lose. Still, she couldn't let it go. There was some force pulling her to finish.

Artemis briefly wondered if he ought to tell her about the requirements for entering the city_. "A__ scholar, a lover __disappointed,__ a fool, a magician, a priestess and one who had known death. And all of them had to be loyal, there of free will.__" _He recalled finding the requirements in some ancient Spanish text. The fairies' documents had also mentioned these conditions of finding the entrance. While these "requirements" could merely be human's misinterpretation, he was taking no chances, not when fairy text also agreed with the statement. But Artemis wasn't willing bring a boat load of people along on this quest. The only willing participates would have to be fairies, which was out of the question. As he sat in his study, pondering how he could enter the city, a thought came to him. Would he really need six people open the gates? Could he have a scholar, a fool, and a priestess in one person? He could easily fill the half the slots himself. Why shouldn't he bring only two people, himself and a priestess? But a priestess of what? He knew plenty of women who could be a priestess, but most were old, frail—certainly not up to a mountain trek.

He needed a strong woman, scholarly but able. Someone who could maneuver around a foreign country and snow-capped mountains. Perhaps even literate in several South American and dead languages.

There was only one person he could think of. And she wouldn't be willing by any means.

**XXXXXX**

"Last night—"

He looked up from the snow. He had been staring down, following her trail through the powdery white stuff.

"Yes?" Artemis asked, seemingly absent minded as he straightened his jacket. Too focused, in her mind.

"What…" She struggled for the words and he loved it. Loved her for it. "What did you perceive it meant?"

Artemis had to wonder, what did it mean? That she was coming back to him? The feud over with? Or was it something less significant, less emotional and more physical? He suspected that some event of that nature is what led to Ella's creation. There had been a few, over the years.

She asked him this for two reasons. Firstly, because she wasn't sure what he was feeling, and that in itself was dangerous. And secondly, she wasn't sure what she felt. So, he said what she would want to hear, the hardest thing to day.

"It was nothing, Sophia. Just two adult people who were lonely taking advantage of their positions. Think nothing of it."

Sophie nodded, frowning. She had expected some feeling of relief. Instead, she almost felt disappointed. Ashamed.

"_Nonsense!" _She mentally scolded. _"You know this is better for both of you. For the thousandth time—he's far better off without you, silly girl."_

They treaded on. Neither spoke. Together, they focused on the task at hand.

The legend referred to a mountain _"night-black in day, day-white in night." _Silly, really, the idea of a mountain that would shift colour. But it was a fairy site, so the stone would play by fairy rules. Unusual, magical, and baffling to anyone without imagination. The part of the directions concerned him, for the only way they would be able to identify a colour-changing landform would be if they were out at night. With the temperature as low as it was, he hesitated in the idea of sitting out in the dark just to watch a rock change a ravine nearby, there the passage would be. Artemis was unsure as to what, exactly, the passage would look like.

Almost as though she on the same brainwave, Sophie broke the quite with "What is the entrance suppose to look like? A golden gate? An 'open sesame' wall?"

Artemis snorted. It wasn't exactly becoming. "Most likely not. The myth names some mountain, and below that a chasm. Where it stops, there the passage will be. Though whether it is a gate or a magical wall I cannot say. No one has any written record of it."

"Then how did you come to know of it, Artemis?" Her voice had a certain sharp edge that made him pull on his cap. He couldn't, of course, tell her that fairies had given him the most pivotal pieces of information (sometimes unwittingly so, in Mulch's case) ---she already believed him to be "losing it." So he lied.

"Records by a Juan Martinez." He said coolly. "1550s. You should read more South American history, Sophie, when your mother originated from the continent."

After a heavy eye roll, she focused on the actual information. Sophie wasn't nearly as well versed in El Dorado history and accepted his attribution. "But why here, in the mountains? In all the stories I've heard placed the city in the jungle, near the Amazon, or Venezuela. Never in the Andes. "

"The legendary city of gold El Dorado Sir Raleigh wrote of is not what we are looking for."

"What?" Sophie began. Artemis ignored her.

"What we are in search of is merely a storage place for artifacts, a safe you might say. It may be city-sized, it may have once been used to support an assembly of people," He glanced at her. "but the function it holds today is to conceal Incan gold. The Inca knew more than Pizzaro gave them credit for being. They understood, after a time, the value of their gold and foresaw their demise. Some leader, some chef whose name has been lost in time, through the translation of documents, decided to save his civilization's one saving grace. He hid a fortune in these mountains so that one day the Incans could reunite with their gold, and reestablish their culture."

"How do you know if they didn't try, if they don't already have the gold?" Sophie demanded.

"They have not, I assure you." Artemis rolled his eyes heavily.

"_Oh, now who's into the theatrics?" _If looks were fatal, Sophie would practically be a serial killer. "How do you know?"

"Because, Sophie, on one else has even possessed the written records I have." Before Sophia could again "_How?" _his statement, he hurried on. "I assure you, Sophia, no human eyes, save for the author, have ever be held this piece."

Sophie narrowed her eyes. _"Human" _was the key word in that declaration. She had not forgotten the tiny, technologically- advanced beings she had encountered the night Sasha died. They had been supernatural, certainly not human. Artemis had been in league with those creatures.

"Why are you looking for this place?"

"Money." Artemis said quickly. Far too quickly for Sophie's taste.

"The billionaire Irish technology tycoon," Sophia said slowly. "poster child for the successful upper class, son of an equally rich businessman, and you're looking for an ancient city of gold for _money?_"

"Greed may be a sin, but it has yet to smite any Fowls." He said cheerfully.

Sophie kicked a chunk of snow in front of her, thinking. She tugged the hem of her gloves, adjusted her hat, and popped her knuckles. Artemis shuddered at the faint _"pop" _sounds emitting from her hands. At the site his expression, she grinned.

"But really, Artemis, why? Why go to all this trouble. _Three _expeditions. I know you're ambitious, ruthless, never lose and all that, but three? It's something more than money. This is too much of a financial risk to just do for money."

"Would you believe I am merely an ageing, financially stable, adventurous man who wants to live life to the fullest by pursuing my dreams?" He said seriously.

"No." She said shortly.

He grimaced. There was no distracting her.

"After kidnapping me, threatening me, dragging me through these terrible conditions, allowing me to be _assaulted_, I believe you could offer some real explanation as why I am here?"

"After being verbally abused, injured severely, saving you for assault, and offering you this opportunity most would give up the ghost for, I do not feel obligated to inform you of my reasoning." Artemis reminded her.

"Corny." She sneered. "I still believe my ordeals outweigh yours, darling."

He closed his eyes, sighed, and shook his head. "Sophia, I cannot tell you. My reasons are entirely my own."

"Cannot or will not?"

"It does not matter." Artemis walked ahead of her, flexing the fingers of his injured limb. "You should focus on the task, not the motives behind it."

His captive glared at the back of his head, knowing full well that he would never abide by that particular grain himself. "_Hypocritical git." _

**You know how I said chapter 11 was half way done? Well, I lied. Chapter 12 is half way done, horrid, and was suppose to be chapter 11. But this chapter is far shorter than it was intended to be, because I wanted to actually give up an update before my spring break was up, so look for chapter 11 before the month is out. **

**Red Sky's next update is nearly finished as well, but don't expect it up until Saturday evening at soonest. Still, it has the final chapter being outlined and we're coming toward the climax. **


	11. Wagers to be Won

She had not realized until the expedition how much she disliked snow. And the cold. And the wet. She was a fan of tropical weather, at this point in her life. Though, she recalled as a child, being in love with the rain and the wondrous icy chill of her home country. But that was then, and now she preferred hotter climates. New York's winters might be bitter, but the summers were killers. Perfect, in her mind. Hot enough to suffocate a person, great ice cream-making weather. This, she remembered, was one of the benefits from moving away from cold, wet Ireland.

The walk was not a particularly pleasant one. With enduring silences, the sound of snow crunching beneath their boots was the only sound about. Sophie almost couldn't stand it. She was, by no means a loud sort of person. But this pure quiet allowed her to easily imagine slipping into insanity. Is that what had happened to her sister? Had Sasha been alone in the silence too long, without even a cat to keep her company? Sophie shoved these thoughts away, resurfacing to the present. The idea that her sister's demise was more than a little of her fault had kept her awake for more than a hundred nights. No matter what way she bent the situations, recalled the words, or relived the moments, it would always, _always, _be her contributions that impacted the event the most. She had allowed the silly girl to convince her on this little "mission", she had participated fully.

"We—" She looked up. Artemis's hoarse voice was somewhat still melodic and elegant even its rough state. He had stopped, looking at the scenery. Deep blue eyes scanned the mountains till they alighted upon two particular landforms.

"Yes?"

He coughed. "I believe we're almost there."

Sophie felt the rush of excitement in her chest. The familiar rush of the finale, the prestige of the kill filled her once again. "How do you know?" She demanded.

Artemis half-turned to glance his captive, pointing ahead toward the crisp white snow. "Do you see the dip?"

She narrowed her eyes, trying to make something out of the waves of white. A shadow of the lightest gray, the curve on what had been flat landscape…Sophie let out an excited gasp.

"A path!"

Artemis smiled broadly. "Convenient."

"Very. Almost too convenient. And a little obvious, wouldn't you say? I mean, Artemis, wouldn't a path to El Dorado be kind of hard to miss? Someone must have followed it at some point."

"They may have." Artemis agreed. "But I would highly doubt few, if any, would return. At least if they did, they wouldn't have much to say about it."

"'Not much to say' about the city of gold?" Sophia asked skeptically.

He smirked now. "Allow me to rephrase that. 'They wouldn't to _be able_ to say much.'"

Sophie raised a brow. "As in, this path does not lead to the mythical city?"

The smirked deepen. "I did not say that. I merely implied that they perhaps would be in no state to communicate their experiences."

"But the path doesn't go to the city?"

"It does not." Artemis granted, giving a slow nod. In answer to her upcoming question: "The path leads to_ Blanco Diablo Morte. _"

"White Devil's Death?" _A little contradictory. _Paradoxical. Just Artemis's style.

"An enterprising native created this path as a form of insurance. Once word about the city emerged in European circles, the protectors knew it was only a matter of time before they were plundered and their once chance of revival disappeared. So they decided to send their opponents on a goose chase through the mountains."

Artemis had fully launched into his lecture with a zeal reserved only for such moments. Sophie couldn't help but grin in response to his palpable passion over the subject. Other people's trickery brought him such joy.

"I am sure you have heard various tale of El Dorado's location. You, I believe, had the notion that it was near the Amazon, a tropical rainforest setting. Some suppose the city is a desert plain, hidden in a remote canyon. These possible sites for the city all originated from one source."

"The Incas."

"Indeed. The legend was already out into the ears of the Europeans, there was little they could do to stop the story. The next option was to manipulate the legend, to send any seekers on the wrong path, the cursed trail." He was excited, and it was contagious. "Maps, ancient and authentic were created revealing to location, and distributed. Stories were passed along. This path is just an example of one last attempt."

"So…" Sophie drifted off, looking at him expectantly.

Artemis restrained himself from rolling his eyes. "We do not take the path."

"Duh," Sophia did not restrain the automatic reaction, proceeding to roll her weary eyes heavily. " But where do we go from here?"

At this, the young man grinned, almost devilishly. "We go down."

Sophie turned slowly to face the downward slope behind her. It was steep, rocky, and appeared to be exceedingly difficult no matter what direction one attempted the journey. Her groan echoed for more than a few miles.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Ella Iver wasn't sure what to make of the large manservant. He certainly wasn't a dunce. He wasn't exactly a genius, but he was no idiot. His job was his priority, and clearly something he took pride in. This much was obvious as he dragged her back to her quarters at 4 a.m. He was silent until shoving her into her room, grunting "Now, stay put until morning, Miss Iver. I'm in no mood to go all over the property for you again."

Ella was feeling a little defeated. Yet she certainly wasn't giving up. Still, Ella believed one only ought to try one escape per day per security guard. So she waited for Butler to shut the door before she entered the bathroom to prepare herself for bed for the second time that evening. While she slipped into a new pair of pajamas, Ella ran over the attempted liberation in her mind. The brief moment of freedom was sweet, Ella recalled, though all too brief.

Though she admitted that after she made it past the gates, the wall, the forest, and the drive, she had no clue where to go on, she was still willing to persevere to make it out in one piece. She had little to no clue where in Dublin she was, no access to maps, and (much like her mother) nearly no sense of direction. Sophie had never spoken of the city, never mentioned any relations or friends that lived there, so Ella had no connections to Dublin. To leave was a risk—she possessed nearly no cash (and what she did have was in American bills), could not navigate, and did not know where her mother was.

To stay…there was, as far as she could see, no danger. Ella was being treated well. Considerately cared for and monitored in a _nearly_ non-evasive way. The single concerning event had been the gathering of her DNA sample. If Sophie knew, she would be livid. But that was not Ella's problem. She suspected the motive behind the gathering of the sample, theories that had no menace behind them.

Sighing, Ella considered stopping her escape escapades. The consequences could be worse than she predicted. With Butler's diligence, busting out was near impossible. For all she knew, her mother could be headed here right now. What if Ella escaped, just to become lost in an unfamiliar city, anyways?

As much as she regretted it, staying would be the best thing at this point. Ella nodded to herself as she climbed into bed. It was settled. She would remain at Fowl manner, for the time being. Maybe after she found a map and some cash, she could entertain the idea of leaving. In the mean time Ella might possibly research her mother's relationship with a certain billionaire. Where better a place to dig up a little info on Fowl's past?

And that reminded her. " _Ab incunabulis pinxit primus inter pares. Adsum." _The phrase was something a father would script upon his daughter's walls. Walls to a room that had been carefully designed for Ella. What was Fowl to her? A father? Or, perhaps, an old family friend?

Ella suddenly stood to cross to her dresser. Pushing aside the layers of socks that resided in the bottom drawer, the girl uncovered a worn, faded photo. A pair of people held each other, looking into the camera with great humor. Their smiles were equally wide. The couple was outside, hands together as if they were dancing. Ella gazed at the faces. Artemis was handsome, vibrant. She traced his aristocratic features with one finger. Her father….father. She'd never had one of those. Sophie had worked to fill both roles, but she failed in a few areas.

If Artemis was her father, why wasn't he with her mother? Why had she grown up without him?

**XXXXXXXXX**

"We should be near."

"Oh great! Just like we were three hours ago?"

"Please, darling, that was perhaps thirty minutes ago. Your ability to sustain memory is decreasing at an alarming rate."

"Well, _sweetheart_, your presence typically does that to me. "

"I knew I made you breathless, but forgetful as well? Whatever would happen if I tried to seduce you?"

"Honestly?" Sophie grinned. "I think any attempt of your attempts toward seducing would cause me to drift off." She sniggered from beneath her gloves.

"Really, Sophie." Artemis chided. "I managed to do it once."

"When I let you for my own monetary gain!"

Artemis sniffed. "Details."

At that they both laughed.

"But seriously, how close?

He rolled his eyes up to the sky, musing. Considering. "I would say a half hour. No more." The ice-chip eyes returned to her flushed face. "Is that soon enough for you?"

"I suppose."

"Good."

They were in the ravine. Cold stone surrounded them. Sophie had underestimated how dark the bottom would be—it was twilight. They'd finally reached the floor after several hours of scaling the downward slope. With no major incident, the trip had been a relatively peaceful one, even with their combined difficultly of the navigation in the treacherous landscape. However, both were in a pleasant mood. Playful banter filled their conversation. Things were being to look up for their relationship. Sophie still wasn't sure what they were going to work out once they returned to Dublin. But she didn't bring it up.

"There."

"Wha-?" Sophie strained her neck whipping her head around. The only thing she saw was a pile of snow-covered rocks, blocking the rest of the ravine. No golden gate, no bridge. Just some unremarkable rocks. Ugly rocks, at that. Fowl Manor had lovelier stones marking their path ways.

"Okay," Sophie said slowly. "We might need to take a break, you're losing it on me."

Impatient, Artemis walked forward, hands clenched in fists. His breath was a little labored. "This is it. I know it. You've got to look harder, Sophie."

She squinted. Nothing changed, expect her eyes hurt. "Really Artemis. They're just rocks."

Artemis was less than two meters from the stones. "How do you know?"

"I have decent vision and evaluation skills. They look like rocks. They're rocks."

He grinned. "How about a wager, then? If they're rocks, I'll cook you dinner. If they're not…I commission a piece from you, half price."

"You cook for me? I'm sorry, is that suppose to be some sort of reward?"

"Fine, I'll take you out to dinner."

"Yes, you will undoubtedly—" Then Sophie shut up, for Artemis had touched the rocks. Or, rather, he'd put his hands forward to touch the rough gray things, only for his hands to go straight through the projected images.

"I want a mural." He informed a stunned redhead. "Probably in the Fowl Star Enterprises building in London. Shall we?"

"Yeah," Sophie murmured. "Why not?"

With that, Artemis stepped through the projection. Sophie followed, a little sore over her loss. But the chamber she came face-to-face with soon allowed her to forget her lost bet.

**XXXXXX**

Artemis couldn't control himself. His excitement soared has he moved through the holographic rocks. Completely fairy. As he waited for his companion, his hands skimmed over the light particles making up the "rocks". It was nearly convincing. Without his keen knowledge of fairy technology, he doubted he would have noticed the entrance unless he stumbled into it.

He silently thanked the rebel group of fairies who had run rouge in the time of exploration. Their influence over the Mayans, Aztecs, and Incans had very nearly saved the tribes. When they had failed, they deposited significant amounts of gold, pieces of art, and tools that were symbols of the cultures of their chosen people. Worth millions upon millions today.

When reflecting some more, at a later time, Artemis remembered he had Holly to thank. If she had not mentioned the fairies' and their involvement in the mythical El Dorado, his interest would have never been sparked to go searching for the legend.

" _The Nameless Ones." _Holly had whispered. _"Shamed beyond all others for their love of Mud Men."_

"_What about you?" _Artemis pointed out. _"Nobody seems to mind your visits up here."_

Holly sat back, nodding. _"Well, these are modern times. These days, they figure association with you could only be good. You know, you're environmental rehab campaign really changed their minds about you." _

"_But the Nameless Ones?" _

"_They thought if the Mud—oh, alright, _humans—_we taught to respect the Earth, that maybe we could co-exist. So they started where the humans had already began to worship nature." _

"_The Americas." _Artemis said softly.

"_Yeah. Bad timing, with European exploration—Mud Men taking what wasn't theirs, yet again." _

Artemis gave a wry smile. Holly continued. _"They did manage to teach the humans something—astronomy, higher mathematics, organic agriculture that gave back to the Earth. They began to thrive..." _

"_Until the Europeans arrived on American soil."_

"_Exactly. Well, the Nameless went back underground for a while, to urge for fairy help. A few gnomes listened, and they got a number of pixies on board. Then they went back." _Holly shuddered. _" You know how time passes for us—with our life spans extended above yours, twenty years feels like a month. It was too late. All the natives had been killed, either by disease or European weaponry."_

"_What did the Nameless do?" _

"_They searched for survivors. And there were a few—religious figures, mostly, some women and children. They relocated them to live with assimilated natives, then worked to preserve the culture." _

"_How?" _

"_In a sort of…city I guess. Like your El Dorado. I suppose it's where your myths of a city of gold come from." _

"_What happened to the Nameless Ones?" _

Holly's eyes were hard. _"A few remained above ground, and tried to start a fairy colony. Eventually the pollution got to them. A number returned below ground. They were tried and sentenced to psych institutions. Several…escaped through unnecessary means." _

"_How?"_

"_They were rolled out in body bags, Artemis." _

Lord, that took forever. This is a very short chapter, I know. But it's all I've got in me for now. Classes have recently ended, so updates should be more frequent. My goal is to complete this in another 4-6 chapters. This is, thank goodness, the final chapter before the climax. Look for the next one in roughly two weeks. Ciao.

~Dania


	12. Find My Heart

The chamber was cavernous. Part cave, part fairy-built labs. Cracked computer screens, broken steel chair and blast marks upon the stones. Sophie was mildly surprised. This was not some savage, stone age habitat. It was a high-tech, cold room. Possibly man made, if humans had used HD wireless computers prior to the twentieth century. Aztecs did not create this.

It was circular. From the ground to about three meters up steel lined the walls. Buttons with unfamiliar script were set in the low counter. Nothing was rusted, but piles of snow draped the furthest corners. She looked up. The holograph continued to the ceiling, but there were weak spots. Thin light drifted through the holes. To the right side of the chamber, there was a tunnel sort of thing. The light almost avoided this space, making it seem… foreboding.

"Artemis," Sophie spun to face him, rather slowly. "I don't need to know right this second, but…I won't forget this."

The young billionaire was stooped before his pack, digging through the layers of clothing and tools. He paid her no mind, messing with a heavy-duty flashlight. He popped the last two batteries into the thing, screwing it shut with a quick twirl of his fingers. Tossing the now functioning electric lantern to Sophie, he replied.

"One day, my love, you will be told. As for right now…well. Let's just say it would be an unnecessary distraction from today's events." He started on the second one.

"What about these lights?" Sophie gestured to the transparent panels above them.

"They don't extend through the network. We have a long way to go, my dear." Artemis stood, swinging his pack back on to his shoulders. He stumbled from the force, using one hand to catch himself on one of the low steel counters lining the circular walls. In the motion, he jostled his injured arm. "Ow."

Sophie moved forward automatically to aid him, but Artemis waved her off. "I am fine. We need to proceed. Now. We don't want to be here longer than necessary." He started down the darkening hole, his beam of light illuminating the stone walls. Sophia followed quietly.

"You know this so well." She remarked. "Nothing appears new to you."

"I've learned to hide my surprise from you. It is useful."

She scowled. "I can read you better than that, Artemis. Will this take long?"

"No longer than a walk in the park. Though…" He hesitated. "There are a few things you should know, now that we are here." The young man pressed his dry lips together, wincing when the cut flesh flared sharply with pain. "Obviously we cannot simply carry out everything here."

"You came to make sure the story was true."

"Yes. We'll need to destroy the front room, as well as the exterior." He looked back to catch her eye. "They're not…period pieces." His eyes twinkled.

"You mean they're not human."

He shrugged. "They're of Earth origins. But that will not be enough. When we leave, I'll have to concentrate the blast around the entrance without blocking the network."

"Network…you make it sound like a computer."

He smiled, pleased. "Yes, a computer. It is a sort of computer—a date base of cultural knowledge, organized and documented. The entire thing is a network of tunnels and the like. Connected and organized."

"So you're saying this place is a primitive library."

"That would be another comparison." Artemis nodded. He continued forward, hand trailing against the rough stone. Stone, she now saw, that was carved by machine.

Occasionally they came to a crossroads. On the stone, she saw the symbols she had seen on the keyboards in the first chamber. They were set into the rock, in some glass, or plastic sort of thing. She suspected that once upon a time, they had been illuminated.

Hours seem to pass, though Sophie was sure it could not have been more than perhaps thirty minutes. She was tired, chilled to the bone, and ready to sleep. Artemis also seemed to be steadily dropping pace, steps falling softer than ever before. Sophie was ready to ask him to pause, let them rest, when he turned back to her again.

"You…can you understand this?" He was pointing to one of those symbols on the wall. Two or more feet above their head, Sophie reached up to touch the thing. When a blue-green filtered light suddenly manifested itself upon the writing, she leaped back. Her eyes narrowed.

"I—" Traces of script pulled at the back of her mind. They were familiar. Older. She had seen them before, but where? The memory slammed into her consciousness like a ton of bricks. _Helmets. _

"That night," Sophia breathed. "Those creatures. On their helmets, symbols like that-"

Artemis watched her, face impassive.

"It's them. This isn't Aztec, Artemis! They're your fairies." She accused.

He propped himself against one stone corner. "It is not what you think, Sophie. We are looking for Aztec treasure. Protected, mind you, by advanced technology. But still the same basic items. They're just a little harder to reach than one would have anticipated."

"I won't have anything to do with them, Artemis."

"You need not. They do not claim this. As far as they are concerned, it does not exist." He meets her eyes. "And as far as you are concerned, neither do they."

For a moment they just stare at each other. Sophie inclines her head a fraction of an inch and it is understood.

They move on.

Sophie, for awhile, keeps her gaze on the ground. It's grey and boring, caked with dust. She is scared to enjoy the darkness around her. These walls were built by the creatures partly responsible for Sassy's death. Her throat closed as she bit back emotions there were no need to express. Leave the dead to bury their dead.

Artemis's own mind was focused on other things. For instance, how they were going to transport the items they would inevitably discover. If their helicopter would be able to make it to the peak of the nearest mountain before nightfall. Was there enough time to find the room, gather evidence, and leave before it became too dark for a machine to navigate the mountain range? How would Sophie react when he informed her of the real reason she was here?

Soon they would reach the gates. He would have to explain, make himself heard. Sophie wasn't the kind who shut up and listened when they were angered. Yet today she would have to settle for silence, because it was more than a little vital to their entering the damned room if she didn't willingly release her blood. The tiny part of common sense that occasionally spoke its mind whispered, _"Should've told her to begin with."_

He could've laughed. Yes, he should've been forthright with information. He also should've _asked_ her to accompany him on this little adventure, instead resorting abduction. But that was only the tip of this very cold, very real ice burg. The greatest amount of its mass was hidden under the tumultuous water. What had they come to? Was he so desperate for her company that would kidnap her? Was she so frightened of this creature he'd become that she'd hidden the child from him? When did it become decided they were safest an ocean apart?

"What was that?" Sophie had turned around to face the ground they had just walked over, the tunnel behind them. A skittering noise echoed around the cut walls, bouncing in her ears.

"What?"

"That!" She gestured around, keeping her legs still. Artemis frowned and stepped toward her.

"Shhh!" A finger to the lips was enough to halt the young man. He stood frozen, listening. But no, nothing was there. Artemis shook his head, threw an arm forward to indicate continuing on. He put a finger to his own lips to signal remaining in silence, just in case. Sophie nodded once. _"Yes, I got it." _

The remaining walk was quiet, each person being too wrapped up in their mental breakdowns.

And then the gate is there.

**XXXXXXXXXXX**

"I need your blood."

"Excuse me?"

"I need your blood, please?"

She stared. "Sudden attack of vampireism?"

He sighed, wishing that for once Sophie would just shut the hell up and do what he requested. "No. No, it's for opening the gate."

They both turn to look at the massive thing. It's gold, covered in pictures and script (the same kind found throughout the tunnel system), and rather harmless-looking.

"The gate wants blood."

"Well, yes. But to be more specific, it wants your blood. And mine."

She steels herself for the answer. "Why?"

"_"A scholar, a lover disappointed, a fool, a magician, a priestess and one who had known death are needed—heed—to open my golden gates for thee__. Bring forth life's blood, make offering known. And my golden gates open for thee.'"_

"That is five people." Sophie says softly. He nods, fingering the hem of his jacket.

"We can be all five, together. We're both scholars. You're a priestess and a fool." He winked.

She is quiet for some time, staring at the solid gates with some sort of pensive mindset. "You didn't think to tell me before?"

He's astounded. Sophie is perfectly calm. She turns to him, eyes reveling nothing but curiosity. Not a speck of anger. Had she lost it? This wasn't the Sophie he was familiar with.

"You were on the need-to-know." Artemis says shortly. "And you didn't need to know until we arrived."

Annoyance briefly flashes through her. Sophie bites it down to focus upon the matter at hand. "What do I need to do?"

He dropped his pack, rummaged for a time, and stood with a genuine Swiss Army knife in his palm. With a flick, it was open. The silver blade looked as smooth as ice under the artificial light. Sophie extended a hand, eyes flicking between Artemis and the knife. He gave her a quick nod, lowered the blade, and it was over. The pain was short-lived. Sophie squeezed her hand, letting the blood drip down her raised arm. Artemis watched in mild horror with a mix of fascination. She met his eyes.

Artemis didn't cut his own flesh, but scrapped the knife across one of the wounds he'd gained in his fall. He then guided her as he rubbed the red fluid upon the golden gates. Sophie hissed as the cut made contact. Then the ache stopped, the cold metal soothing the cut.

"When?" She whispered.

"Right about…"Artemis drifted off, waiting. After a sharp _"click"_, he grinned. "Now!"

The gates swung open with surprising ease. Sophie stumbled back into her partner, clutching her bleeding hand. "Oh!"

Artemis shook his head, looking down on her. "Come here."

She didn't exactly need to move much. He merely turned her around with one hand (the only good one) till she faced him. They were inches apart, her eyes level with his neck. Artemis offered his hand, apparently requesting to inspect hers. Sophie let him look. Setting it down to her side again, he appeared pleased with the results. Though, he did dig through the pack again to retrieve a band aid. He peeled off backing and placed it gently upon her wound.

"Shall we?"

She nodded. They set off into the darkness. "How long until—"

"It won't be long." Artemis promised in a whisper. "We just need to stay on the right path…"

"What, is this a maze?"

Though it was very dark, Sophie could see him smile. "Yes, Sophie. A maze, of sorts. I need—I need you to stay close. We don't want you to become lost, eh?"

"Yeah. Don't want that."

"Ready, Sophia?" When he said her name like that her mind went blank. Artemis could always make her weak. She hated him for it. _Prat. _

"Mmmhm. Are you, Artemis?"

The only reply she received was his hand, gripping hers. Oh yes. They were ready.

**XXXXXX**

A thousand electronic lights were spread across the vast chamber, lighting every inch with a mint-coloured glow. Something about it reminded Sophie of a hospital. Metal paneling lined every wall, until perhaps the last three meters. Then it was stone.

Baskets, piles, bins, boxes, bags filled the room. Some were open, others sealed. A good layer dust covered the metal, but nothing could stop the shine of the metal. Gold. Several tons of gold.

Sophie nearly cried when she saw the boat, near the back. Covered in gold leaf, of course. Then there were the eight-foot statues of gods, the chocolate pots, the chairs. Artemis squeezed her hand tighter. Sophie looked at him. They locked eyes, realizing what, exactly, they had discovered. Artemis began laughing, and simply couldn't stop. He dropped her hand to run down the dusty steps toward their treasure. She followed, her laughter mixing with his. They had done it. Truly done it. _El Dorado! _Theirs!

As they ran about the room, picking out sparkling treasures amid their mates, yelling out when they found something worth interest, Sophia was hit with an awareness. They were meant to do this—discover things, together. It was something perfectly natural, for them. She was certain together, they could do this forever.

"Artemis!" She gasped, running to meet him. He was inspecting a solid figurine—probably a fertility statue—and looked up. A pair of bifocals rested on the bridge of his nose. Sophie held back a chuckle.

"Yes?"

"We did it!" She squealed, launching herself upon him. "Oh. We did it!"

The billionaire let out an _"ofooming" _sound, stumbling under her weight. "Lord, Sophia. Yes…we did it." He felt her breath on her neck, thinks it weighs more upon him than her body. With his single function arm he returns her hug. "All thanks to you, Miss Iver."

He imagines that her grin is cheeky, making an odd mix with her tears (He's certain she's crying-typical for his Sophie). "Yeah, well, I mean, you're the one who orchestrated the whole thing. Kidnapping and all."

Artemis pulled back. "I'd prefer to think of it as a…suggestive surprise trip."

"Oh, really? Not a forceful attempt to persuade me to accompany your lonely ass here?"

"That too." He admits, leaning in to kiss her lightly. "Worked out in the end, didn't it."

"Genius, aren't you?"

"Oh, probably, yeah."

Sophie kissed him back, biting his lower lip. Artemis caressed her cheek. She hummed happily. Things were perfect. Brilliant. Wonderful. They would go back to Ireland, explain themselves to Ella, and live like the family they were meant to be. Have the house, the dog, the minivan, the two-point-five kids and—

"Why Mr. Fowl, I do believe I owe you a round of applause. "

They jumped apart, eyes meeting in an instant. In slow unison, Sophie and Artemis turned. Almost unconsciously, Sophie reached out to grab Artemis's hand, at the same time he reached for hers. He squeezed as Sophie took in a big breath.

Mr. Bellisario stood at the top of the stairs, staring at the nails on his left hand. The two huge men that had driven Sophie and Artemis from the airport, to the hotel, to Minerva's bar, stood behind him, dull expressions on both their faces. Their boss had left them with the luggage, two hiking packs. Speaking of boss… he leaned against the stature Artemis said was of the first fairy king. Froud, or something like that. Bellisario gave a lazy smile, and polished his fingernails on his shirt, finally looking at the pair frozen below him.

"Here all along, I was sure you wouldn't be able to even find the entrance, but, luckily, I was wrong." He stepped down, his smile widening. "Hello, Sophia. I had a feeling we would see each other again soon."

Sophie edged closer to Artemis. Artemis looked down at her, his eyes wide. He pressed his face into her hair, inhaling. "It'll be okay." He whispered. "Sophie, just let me talk to him—I can-"

"Ah, young love. Or, rather, reused, love." Bellisario sneered. "Save it, Fowl. I think right now, you have more important things to focus upon."

"Such as?" Artemis was no coward. He was firm, holding his ground with class. "There is a lot here, Bellisario. I am sure we can work out some sort of…arrangement?"

"Well, that is the question, isn't it?" He had moved closer, leaning heavily upon the statue Artemis had been inspecting less than ten minutes ago, before he had picked up the figurine. "Although, I would say the real thing we need to resolve is—what are you willing to give up?"

Sophie glanced up. Artemis didn't look at her once. "What is it you want?"

"A great many things, Mr. Fowl. Power. Wealth. Pleasure." He eyed Sophie with undisguised want. She met his eyes, asserting her mental clarity. Unashamed, Bellisario looked to Artemis. "And you can give all of this to me, Fowl."

"How?"

"One teensy-tiny thing. Frond's heart." The last words came out quickly, as if they were a curse.

Artemis let out a puff of breath. "It's not here."

"Ah, ah, ah. We both know that is a lie. After all, your fairy-friends crushed that disclaimer. I know better."

The fairies again. Sophie closed her eyes briefly. Why was it always them, these tiny otherworldly beings? Artemis needed to get a hobby, something.

"How?"

Bellisario grinned. "I haven't worked all those years for Ms. Minerva to walk away with nothing. Oh no. She's been quite useful. Talks frequently of your quests, Mr. Fowl, even before I needed to be involved."

"Wha-" Sophie started, but Artemis silenced her quickly.

"He arranged everything. Our flights, the guide, everything." He whispered swiftly. "On Minerva's behalf."

"You mean—"

"I know everything." Bellisario finished. "Probably even more than you, my dear Sophia."

"Miss Iver, to you." She snapped.

Bellisario pushes himself off of the gold deity he was leaning against to sidle up to her. Artemis tugs her closer, but not before Bellisario takes her chin, jerking her head upwards to look him in the face. Sophie held her breath. He smelled of too-pricey cologne, smoke and…acid. Nothing too pleasant. She struggled to pull away. Artemis stroked her hand with his thumb, clearly saying _"Calm down, you. Fussing won't help."_

"I'll call you what I will, and you can call me whatever you wish." He hissed. "Because you'll need something to scream out—"

She kicked him in the shin, effectively shutting him up. Bellisario cursed, backhanding the young woman by instinct. Artemis jerked her away, promptly placing one cold hand upon her stinging cheek. "Shhh."

"Bloody fool." She murmured, head against Artemis' chest.

**XXXXXXXX**

"You see, Ms. Minnie failed to notice me when she spoke of her fairy-friends. Typical, you know. Ignoring the help. And when you flew in to chat about your discovery, Fowl, I was right there. Heard you, when you said that bit about Frond's heart." He smacked his lips, circling the pair. "And you see, I saw it as an opportunity. I follow you here, find the heart, and leave. Simple. Easy.

"Ms. Minnie never really thought helpful, kind, _accommodating _Bellisario would ever think to turn on her. Borrow her plots. Stupid woman. Clever enough to research and the like, but when it comes to the actual planning? Complete fool. Can't see past her own damn legacy. Much like yourself, Mr. Fowl. Didn't think anyone would be enterprising enough to follow you, hm? Nobody so brilliant as to find El Dorado for themselves."

"I never—"

"No, you didn't!" He hissed.

**So I didn't even edit this thing, I was so excited to have finished it. Sorry for any typos, I'll replace it later. Maybe. **

**Yeah, so Bellisario is the bad guy. We're hitting the climax. Nearing the end. I'm thinking maybe three or four more chapters and this sucker will be fin! **

**Reviews are like my coffee. Coffee is what keeps me alive and functioning. Therefore, you need to provide some.**

**With your review, please tell me what brought you into fan fiction. And if you're interested, a friend of mine has created a FF forum based on the process, the pros and cons, things that annoy us (Mary Sues, lack of reviews, how the site functions, etc.) It's a great site, at .net****Check it out if you get the chance, you'll find a lot of friendly people, discussions, and ideas on there!**

**Ciao!**


	13. The Keeping Heart

**The Keeping Heart**

**DISCLAIMER: Arty still isn't mine. Sophie is, as are all other OCs. **

"Where is it?"

Silence.

"I'm in a hurry. Where is the Heart?"

No answer.

"Mr. Fowl, I do not have time for your…lack of cooperation."

"You'll be waiting here a long time, if you want an answer from me."

_Smack. _

Sophie flinched at the sound of Bellisario's open palm making contact with Artemis's frozen flesh. For the third time, so far. She feared that if he didn't soon give them something, _anything_, besides this attitude, Artemis would be receiving more than just slaps. So what if he'd worked out? He couldn't take a pummeling from the two anvil-heads over there. For the first time, he would have to realize there was no Butler here to protect him.

"Let's try this again, shall we? Where. Is. The. Heart?" He said each word slowly.

Artemis licked his lips, a habit Sophie knew he detested. "Did you think to look for yourself?"

"Being lazy, are you?" Sophie added, looking at Artemis. They shared a long look, his expression clearly stating _"Leave it alone." _Her own gaze replied with a _"I'm not letting you take this alone."_

"What was that, Miss Iver?"

"Have you perhaps thought to look for yourself, rather than beating the location out of my companion?" Her tone was cold, eyes narrow. She shifted in her captor's arm to maintain her gaze. After the first refusal, Bellisario commanded his men to restrain the pair. He assured Sophie that if she couldn't handle one pair of arms, he'd gladly add his own to the mix.

"Ah, but you see, I am in a bit of a…rush. If Artemis here could just help us find this single item, we would be on our way and leave you to your riches."

Sophie held her breath, then exhaled slowly. "Well, there we reach an impasse. Artemis apparently isn't willing to give you the location, and seeing as I tend to trust his demented judgment, I would say—" She extended the word. "—that helping you find this heart thing is a terrible idea. The last bit, however, what was it? Oh, yes 'be on our way and leave you to your riches.' That is agreeable."

Bellisario listened to her with obvious building rage. "Miss Iver," He began in measured tones. "I don't think you understand the implications you've put yourself in by not being 'agreeable' yourself. We are desperate men. Desperate men tend to be extreme when not given what they want. With that being said…"

Artemis's head was tugged up by the roots of his hair. He barely held back a gasp of pain, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Where is the Heart?"

"I am not at liberty to say."

Bellisario released his scalp, stalking toward Sophia. "And you, Miss Iver?"

It was around that time Sophie noticed the holster strapped onto his side. Black metal glinted in the unnatural light. Of course they came armed; you'd have to be an idiot to try to pull a scheme like this without weaponry. The two apes likely had a gun or more a piece. And what do she and Artemis have?

Nothing.

How typical.

"Miss Iver."

This didn't have to necessarily be violent. Though, if she could get her hands on a pistol things might be easier. It was all about control—who controlled the gun, who control the room, who held the attention. Can Artemis shoot? Had Butler ever thought to teach him?

"_Miss Iver!" _Her cheek stings from the slap. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Artemis struggle against the arms of the baboon restraining him.

"I haven't the slightest idea what you're looking for, Bellisario." She says quietly. Disgusted, the oily man turns back to Artemis. All too late, Sophie realizes her mistake. Her statement opened the door to Artemis.

"But," She went on quickly. "That doesn't mean I don't know where it is."

Bellisario paused, heel still in the air from a part turn. The air almost seemed to grow colder as he swung 'round to face Sophie Iver. Her pallid cheeks burned from his slap, but her eyes were flaming. Behind Bellisario's back, her original captor's blood drains from his face. Sophie has made herself bait.

"So, what is this, Frond's Heart? Some weapon? An ancient artifact? What can it be worth, that you would trek all the way out here?"

"Sophie," Bellisario purred. "Why don't we have a chat?"

She thrust her chin forward stubbornly. "What is Frond's Heart? Why'st worth so much?"

He let out a slow breath. "Ah, Sophie. You know how to drive a man simply mad. Fine," An indulgent smile, and Bellisario began. "Frond's Heart is a mythical pendant supposedly hidden in El Dorado. Here. The secret to the Aztec empire."

"I don't understand. You're looking for a mythical necklace?"

His smile resembled the edge of a knife: thin, sharp, and unforgiving. "No, silly girl. I'm looking for a mythical necklace that empires _thrive _upon. Frond's Heart is what gave the Aztec's their golden age. Would you care to elaborate, Artemis?"

It isn't a question, not really. Artemis looks up, avoiding eye contact with Sophie. "The Heart gives fertility. Whichever country possesses the Heart, they'll have steady crops and healthy livestock. No illness, no plagues. World powers can be built on such an artifact. Have been built on this artifact. Once the Mayans owned the Heart—until the an Aztec chief took it as a spoil of war. Then the Spanish found it after defeating the Aztecs. You ever wonder why Isabella's reign was so prosperous when she was a tyrant? It was the Heart. The Heart gave her court stability."

"Then why aren't you in Spain?" Sophie shot out to Bellisario.

"Because, it didn't stay in Europe." He sneered.

"No," Artemis confirmed softly. "It did not. Shortly after 1598, nearly one hundred years after Isabella's death and at the death of her great-grandson Philip, the Heart was recovered and returned to this place."

Sophie frowned. "Then why hasn't Brazil or Argentina or any of these places been incredibly flourishing?"

"Well, it's all about conditions, isn't it?" Bellisario drawled. "A leader must possess the pendant. A legitimate leader in the eyes of the people."

"So, hypothetically, if you were to find the Heart you would sell it to the highest bidder?"

"Oh yes. And you would be surprised what some countries will pay for a necklace."

Sophie shook her head. "Trust me, I wouldn't."

**XXXXXXX**

"I do not need a nightlight."

Ella's slim arms where planted on her hips as she glared up at the manservant roughly five times her size. The toes of her left Mary Jane tapped against polished marble tiles. Head tilted, she greatly resembled her absent mother. This thought disconcerted Butler briefly. Sophie didn't start being his favourite, but quickly grew to hold a special place in his heart. A place Ella was quickly invading.

"Miss Iver," He began calmly. "You're obviously suffering from a case of insomnia. A nightlight might ease your ill feelings."

The girl scowled. Now she couldn't look more like her aloof father. "I'm not scared of the dark. I don't need any irritating bulb brightening up my room when I'm trying to sleep."

Butler sighed, halting. He had been making his way up the steps in the entrance hall whilst Ella stood below on the ground floor, expressing her distaste toward the atom-shaped nightlight he had found in the basement, in a box of Artemis's old toys. "Toys" being a chemist set, microscopes and model sets. He's designed the nightlight himself. An atom of gold, Artemis's favourite element. Angeline had been quite impressed.

"This was Mr. Fowl's, you know." He offered forward the light. Ella glided up the steps, scowl fading to a frown. She reached to take the model, holding it like a small bird. The girl touched the molded glass. Butler recalled Artemis complaining that the colours didn't match the atom. So long ago. "He made it, when he was your age."

Or was he younger? Butler couldn't remember. Had it been thirty years ago?

"It's…" Ella suddenly couldn't find her voice.

"Do you use it, Ella?"

Silent, she nodded. Leaving the manservant on the steps, Ella moved up the stairs and to her room. She shut the door. Then plugged in the handcrafted light. The bulb was unbroken.

**XXXXXXXXXXX**

Sophie had never considered the sound of fists making contact with flesh after great momentum was but behind it. It was a devastating noise. Very sharp. Very distinct.

She bit her lower lip, keeping her eyes trained on Artemis's boots and not on his gasps of pain. He was being so brave. Barely a moan had passed his lips since Bellisario's goons began their work. There wasn't much they hadn't done, but he was holding back, stanch on holding back expressions of pain. When they began he ordered her softly to look away, ignore him. Sophie had just stared, eyes wide. Artemis said it again, in a lower voice. So she dropped her head to look at his boots. Hand-crafted leather hiking boots. Lined with sheepskin. Wool socks.

For some indescribable reason, Sophie had to restrain a giggle. Wool socks. Baggy, ugly wool socks. Wool socks she had knitted. They had been his Christmas gift, a sour reply to the aquamarine-and-opal studded necklace and bracelet set Artemis sent privately to her loft. Angered, she had knitted those godawful things and sent them in the post along with a Christmas card and a snide note. All Sophie received in return was a tiny box and her own Christmas card. The card said thank you for the socks. The box contained the matching earring he had apparently forgotten to send.

Bellisario casually leaned against the statue Sophie was tied to. She had been forcibly dragged to the steps to be restrained, screaming and struggling all the while. "Pity we have to wait for Mr. Fowl to make up his mind." He said conversationally. "But some people just have no consideration for others."

Sophia rolled her eyes. "Yes, Artemis is so very selfish."

"Exactly, my dear. He's doing but nothing causing trouble for himself. If he would just tell us…you could get on with your little adventure together."

"_But he'll never tell." _Aloud, Sophie sighed.

"This could go much faster if someone were to convince him the best course of action would be surrender."

"Someone like me."

"Indeed, Miss Iver. Someone like you would be ideal." Bellisario purred, flicking one of the lank curls laying across her shoulders. "He could be convinced if someone like you were to speak with him. Because, my dear, I'm not sure how much longer Mr. Fowl can hold up."

There were no longer any boots for Sophie to focus upon any more—Artemis had collapsed to his knees. His injured arm was out of the sling and hung limply by his side. A spilt lip, blackened eye, and a multitude of other wounds were scattered across his body—they had removed his jacket and shirt. He was shivering. Sophie feared perhaps Bellisario was right, that Artemis couldn't hold up much longer. By now he certainly had at least one broken rib, if not more from his earlier fall. Blood trickled from one corner of his mouth. _"Gods…"_

"Why are you doing this?" she asked abruptly. "Why him? Surely finding this damn place couldn't be that hard."

"You tell me, Miss Iver. You were involved in its rediscovery."

"Why?"

Bellisario didn't look away from the pale young man kneeling on the floor below them. Sophia flinched, whimpering when one of the apes kicked Artemis's left shoulder blade, leaving behind a red scuff matching his boot treads. "Because, not all of us are Artemis Fowl."

"That's no reason to cripple someone."

"True." Bellisario readily agrees.

"Then why?"

He didn't reply as another kick was aimed toward his captor's head. Sophie let out of strangled sob.

"Any progress, Mr. Fowl?" he called. Artemis lifted his head, spitting out blood. His nose was clearly broken, two rivers of red fluid falling to his mouth and chin. In the back of her mind, Sophie reflected on the thought of how he wasn't going to ever look the same again.

"No," came the hoarse reply. "I do not believe so."

"Dear me, how unfortunate." Bellisario sighed, turning to his other detainee. "Contrary to what you may think of me, Miss Iver, I do not _enjoy _doing this torture thing. But I have no choice."

Sophie rolled her eyes again. "Right. The poor, boo-hoo sad story. This is just a result of your miserable childhood, crappy love life, bad encounters with the fast food business, et cetera." She snarled. "Well, whatever your story is I'm sorry. But that doesn't give you any reason to torment other people for a damn necklace."

"Language, Miss Iver."

"I'll talk to him."

Bellisario smiled. "Very good, Miss Iver. Dominic. Res. Why don't you take a break?"

The two idiots stepped away from Fowl, arms hanging dumbly by their sides. The bigger one of the two sidled up to loosen Sophie's bonds, fingers working the knot. The ropes fell and Sophie fell against the goon, mumbling some half-apology. Then she practically flew down the steps to her former fiancé. Artemis managed to roll himself onto his back. She knelt beside him, pushing back his blood-crusted raven locks from his forehead. He cringed under her touch, so she pulled back tentatively, settling on watching his pallid, bruised chest rise and fall slowly.

"You can't keep this up forever."

He licked his spilt lip, tightening his eyes when the cut stung from the motion. "No. But I'll shoot for a little longer, shall I?"

"Don't even think about." Sophie whispered. "How is your arm?"

He chuckled, breath ragged. "Better than some other parts, I'll grant you. But…" His left eye can't open all the way. This doesn't impact the severity of his expression, which is very sad. "Sophie, listen. He can't find it, do you understand me? It's vital. If I become…indisposed…I need you to promise that you will do everything in your power to prevent him from getting the damn Heart. It's not some magical item that will automatically save a nation by miraclously giving the crops fertility. Sophie...Sophie, the Heart is cursed. It's dangerous and it will destroy the world's international market, the economy of our most powerful nations. You need to do everything you possibly can to keep him from the heart. Do you understand me? Everything."

He meant her life, of course. There was something so dangerous about the necklace that he was asking her to end her own life if it came down to it. As insignificant as one measly piece of ancient jewelry might appear, the implications of its abilities could be severe. If the wrong country possessed the Heart and jump-started their economy…well, the results could be world-altering. Damaging.

"Yes." Sophie cradled his unbroken hand gently in her own. "I promise, Artemis. No cold feet."

Their broken engagement was now something of a joke between them. It stung, but his smile was worth it.

"You're going to get out of here alive, Sophie, if I can manage it. You've just got to…"

Sophie let out a hiss of breath. "Don't you dare talk like that, Artemis Fowl. If it can be helped, I'm not going walk out of this damn hole without you stumbling along beside me."

"Sophie, I can't—"

She silenced him with a desperate kiss. Regardless of how weak he felt, the kiss Artemis returned was bruising and just as desperate. He ignored the stinging of his bust lip, ach of his broken ribs. If this was the last bit of Sophie he'd ever receive, he'd take it. He'd always taken it, no matter how much it hurt. He was hers, completely hers.

Then their time was up. Sophie had, in Bellisario's mind, made absolutely no progress.

**XXXXXXXXXXXX**

"You're being sloppy, Bellisario."

"Ah, am I now? Care to enlighten me in the errors of my ways?"

Sophia struggled against the ropes that bound her. Nylon, in a bright neon orange. More comfortable than, say, chains. Still, if not for her coat she would be chafed."You didn't even think to look for yourself. And if I were to arrange some heist to find some mythical piece of jewelry hidden deep in the mountains of South America, personally I wouldn't be doing any of the dirty work myself. Because that's putting myself at risk. If the people I was terrorizing knew I was orchestrating the entire thing, and by some miracle left alive, well…that would be an unfortunate. Besides that, Bellisario, you didn't do your research. That is painfully obvious. And possibly your biggest mistake."

"You're not helping yourself out, Miss Iver."

"No," She agreed. "It would appear I'm not. But you did ask me to inform you. And I'm informing you that you're bone dead stupid.

"And why's that?" Bellisario said lazily, examining his manicured, perfectly rounded nails.

"Well," The word was extended as the eldest Iver shrugged off her loosen bonds and cocked the pistol she aimed casually on her second captor's stomach. Her smile was beatific. "You didn't really pay much attention, did you now?"

**This was meant to be longer, but I decided I'd rather update quickly with a shorter chapter than wait another two weeks. My focus lately has been drawn to Doctor Who, my dears. I'm sorry. I'm doing my best. But hey, the second to last chapter has been written! Wooo, go me!**

**Thanks for the reviews, lovelies. Keep them coming!**


	14. Volcano Day

**Considering my usual update pace, this isn't so horrid. I'm pretty sure it's been less than a month. Maybe. Enjoy!**

Bellisario froze, eyes focusing on the shining bit of metal Sophie clutched with both hands. Her finger rested just outside of the trigger guard, opposite palm holding the butt of the gun. It was painfully obvious that she knew how to handle such a weapon.

Artemis pulled himself into a kneel, a grin across his bloodied face. Sophie met his eyes for the briefest moment.

"Well, besides that," She continued, stepping forward to give her captives a scathing shake of the head. "I mean, honestly. When attempting to retrieve information, you never…persuade…the informee through violent measures if you can help it. We've seen in the past, torture _never gives any reliable information_. If you had wanted to get anything out of Arty, I would've been the best choice. Honestly, he's not so heartless as to watch me be beaten when he could just tell you the location. He's not nearly as self-centered as you believe."

The former-captor-turned-captive was silent as he watched Sophie give this dialogue. His pair of gorillas stood in the background, unsure of what course of action would be best. Artemis struggled to stand, testing out his legs. Neither man move as the billionaire crossed the chamber in four strides. He reached Sophie and slide behind her, placing gentle hands on her shoulders.

"Make them kneel." He whispered into her ear. Sophie shook her head.

"Guns, knives and whatever else you have on the ground." Sophie commanded. "I want one hand up in the air and I want you to remove your holsters one at a time, starting with orange jacket other here. Understand?"

The man nodded.

"Artemis, would you…?" She gestured to the men. He nodded, going back to pick up the weaponry.

"Oh, and once you've rid yourself of your weapons, you can sit. Indian-style, if you don't mind."

The men complied. She circled the group while Artemis stood back, leaning against the same column she had been tied against. Every eye in the room followed her. Sophie couldn't help but smile. "Well, this is a bit of a reversal."

She stopped just behind Bellisario to deliver a swift hit with the butt of the gun. He fell forward without a sound. Before anyone could make a sound, the gun was again cocked and aimed. "Either of you move, you'll be next."

Before anything else was said, she set to tying the pair up, in a similar style to her own bonds. There is absolutely no struggle from either baboon. Artemis stood in the background, watching with apprehension. His expression was half-hidden by shadows, and he warily switched balance from foot to foot. Sophie had never been so…domineering before. Not in this manner. The young billionaire could not help but feel inadequate as she roped Bellisario swiftly to the nearest heavy object—a wooden bench, gold-leafed and hand-carved.

Finally, she turned to her partner. "Artemis…" Sophie moved forward gently, hands outstretched. "Let me see you."

Unable to hold in anything, he practically fell forward. Sophie caught him, hugging as gently as humanly possible careful of his arm, his ribs, his head. The billionaire clung to her, breath ragged, pulling her into the shadow for the sake of privacy. He buried his nose into her neck, breathing in deeply. Inhaling her soft scent was nearly enough to calm the turmoil bubbling inside him. Every cell, every inch of punished flesh ached like nothing before. Artemis had never suffered through a physical beating in his life. This was a horridly new experience.

"Let me look, Artemis," She starts.

"No! We've got to move on…the Heart. We've got to get the Heart." He shouldn't have even wasted the thirty seconds it took to hold her. Soon would be too late, they had to move _now._

"But—"

He didn't even pause, merely grabbed her to pull her away at his hobbling pace. Oh, damn it all. She doesn't understand. Of course not, he never took a moment to explain, to allow her to comprehend the sense of their mission, to reasoning behind their travels. He had tried, so hard, to pull her away after the accidents-at that point he was willing to wait, he didn't see any danger in letting the Heart wait a few months; it had waited centuries already, surely there was no harm? But no, he had been wrong. And Sophie, darling Sophie who didn't even understand why they were going, or what they were seeking, or any of it, had demanded he push on. The silly girl couldn't stand to see her Arty fail, to give up. Oh, it was lucky she had him wrapped around her finger—had they not gotten here in time, Bellisario would have certainly uncovered the most dangerous Fairy artifact outside of the Lower Elements. She had unknowingly saved the planet from World War III-well, nearly, if they could destroy the damn Heart.

They approached the back of the chamber, behind the tall, sweeping pillars to find…a blank wall. Artemis began to run his finger along each seam, murmuring to himself softly, wincing when he had to crouch. Sophie followed his lead, though having no clue as to what, exactly, she was searching for. Though she would probably be identify whatever secret latch he was looking for by touch. Hopefully.

Eight minutes passed at a snail pace before Sophie hit a gap in the wall. "Artemis, is this it?"

Before he could reply, the wall melted before the pair, dripping into a sand-like state. The crumbling facade reveled a set of crude stone steps, leading upwards. Sophie glanced his way.

"Well, they certainly appreciate the melodramatic, eh?"

Artemis didn't reply. He took her hand again and began the climb. Sophie trailed behind, eyeing his back worriedly. The amount of physical stress he was putting himself through would have dire consequences. Artemis needed to slow down, or risk permanent injury. He was not the type to take to living as a cripple well—handicaps would shatter him, she was sure. Artemis may not rely heavily on physical activity, but he certainly enjoyed freedom of movement.

They hurried at a neck-breaking pace, never pausing. Sophie huffed out from below, "Artemis, you're going to hurt yourself even more if you don't—"

But he never heard the rest. He was too busy running.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

An unmeasured amount of time was spent climbing the rough set of stone steps. Sophie couldn't estimated it under the circumstances. All she knew was that one moment they'd been running up for God-knows-how-long, and the next they'd found themselves circular room. Filled to the brim with scrolls (something that confused Sophie to no end—Aztecs didn't use scrolls, or, at least, not these parchment ones with the finely tooled brass rods), the room smelt heavily of dust and age. She was struck with the sudden desire to sneeze.

Each scroll had its own circular shelf. The shelves wrapped around the room, and with their round features, created a honeycomb-like walls. Peculiar. And distinctly not Aztect. Too smooth, too refined to be Aztec craftsmanship.

Artemis scaled the edges of the chamber, peeking into every scroll's wooden cubby hole.

"Who made this?" She removed one scroll from its shelf, browsing the careful script. It's excruciatingly similar to the character she'd seen throughout the tunnel network. Fairy. Of course. How had Artemis gotten caught up in these mad little people?

"Someone long gone." He replied vaguely, pulling out a piece of script himself. Sophie returns hers to its home on the shelf and went to his side, watching his brilliantly blue eyes flicker across the page.

"You can read this?"

"Mmm, yes."

"Fluently?"

"Yes, Sophie." He sounds irritated, much like he would when she pestered him about something-or-other while he was reading files for work, or programming his phone.

"What is this place?" She asked after a few seconds of silence, voice hushed. "A sort of Fairy library."

He rolled up the scroll (which appeared to be very difficult to do with the use of only one hand) and placed it into the slot. "It is where the greatest treasure stays." He told her seriously. "The knowledge."

Sophie paused to consider this, then nodded. "So, does this tell us where the Heart is?"

"In so many words, yes."

"So…"

He took her hand again to spin her in the opposite direction. There, nestled amongst the shelves were…more shelves. From behind, Artemis whispered in her ear, "Center shelf. Beneath the text."

Sophie edged forward to take out the dusty roll of parchment. She could feel him nod against her shoulder. Cautious, she reaches to the bottom of the shelf, fingers running along the grains of the polished wood. All she could feel was dust, nothing else…then the tips of her digits hit it. The cool, metallic chain. She followed the curved line to touch something much more solid, bigger….

She pulled out the heavier object, cupping it between her hands. It was a twisted lump of stone and metal, a swirling brown mixture of organic elements. Between her warm skin, it glowed softly amber. She could almost feel…_life _emanating from the Heart, sheer natural power. Dangerous. Natural, in the sense it was organic. But still somehow wrong. Was that possible? Sophie turned slowly to Artemis. He stared, blinking occasionally as though to initiate concentration.

"Here," Sophie passed the Heart into Artemis's single cold hand, folding her own over it.

Fowl holds the object, still staring with reverence. "I knew—I knew we would get it, Sophia. "

She smiles. "Of course. It's us. We're both intelligent adults."

"Both graduates of respectable universities."

"With flourishing careers."

"Most remarkable minds in our respectable fields." Artemis smiled. It was their private pact, a poem they'd created before their broken engagement. Something said in the moments of deepest meaning, something to remind them why they were at this place in time.

He was weary, terribly weary. Now that the Heart was in his possession, it was time to make an exit. Preferably a quick one. They hadn't the time to savor the victory.

"Let's go home, Sophie." He turned her hands to squeeze them, pocketing the Heart when he stepped away. "We're done."

Her smile was smug. "Told you we ought to push on."

"The irony is not lost on me, let me assure you." Artemis pressed one quick kiss to her frozen lips. "Now, let us fly."

"Oh, please. No quotes."

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

An hour and forty-five minutes find them at the top of a snowy ridge, waiting. Sophie paced while her partner sat on one of their packs, watching her every step. Understandably, their surrounding were rather dull. Snow, stone, ice and gray, dreary skyline. Sophia occasionally scanned the sky for their ride. Apparently, it was perfectly possible to navigate a helicopter up in the mountains.

She would've ripped him out for this valuable piece of information, which could have, incidentally, saved them several days of hiking. But he was far too exhausted and hurt—no need to pain him anymore than necessary. Sophie was tired as well, and she couldn't bring herself to even be adequately mad. Artemis most likely had a reasonably motive for avoiding the helicopter route in favour for a hike. She would probably never be informed of this motive, but what else could one expect of Artemis Fowl? Sophie still was not entirely sure as to why he felt she needed to accompany him. Or why he said it would take so long. They'd set off only …four days ago? Five? Less?

"How much longer?"

"Twenty minutes, at most."

"And at least?"

"Five seconds. Sophie, pacing isn't going to change. Though, perhaps wear you out."

"Better than nodding off whilst sitting on my arse." She replied, glancing pointedly to his improvised seat. Artemis ignored this. He's felt cold, irritated. Weak.

"What will happen, after this?"

He considers. "Straight home, I think. Back to the Manor. Ella is waiting for you."

Sophie nodded slowly. "And then what?"

Artemis looks down. "I don't know." He admits. "I never planned that far, to be honest. Though, I suppose we shall have to decided, eventually…something must be done…agh!"

Sophie lurched forward to kneel before him, hands fluttering over his forehead and arms. "Artemis?"

He gasped, mouth opening and closing repeatedly in unspeakable pain, hands shaking. "S-s-sophie—"

"Artemis, talk to me." She commanded, holding his head between her gloved hands. His teeth chattered, and he stared up at her, unable or unwilling to speak. His entire body shook with some unseen illness. Sweat made a fine, dewy layer across his brow. Sophie cursed. He was going into shock, his body was finally reacting to all the pain it had built up. Perhaps this was a side effect of a ruptured something-or-other, internal bleeding, _brain damage_, a hemorrhage! All she could do was sit and hold him, murmuring quietly. Oh, please let the helicopter be here. _Please. _

Sophie had to hold back a small scream when Artemis's eyes rolled back into his head, showing only the bloodshot whites.

But her fears where lessened with the distinct sound of air being sliced at a high speed. The copter, just behind them. Sophie waved one arm, saving her voice for Artemis, telling him they were _saved._

The aid jumped down to help her pick up the billionaire and settle him into the back. Sophie yelled over the blades to explain what, exactly had occurred. She arranged for the helicopter to return after leaving them in Santiago. They would bring Bellisario and his monkeys back.

And then, they were gone. Sophie held Artemis against the motion of the copter, as he still shook. She wasn't a doctor, and had no idea how long before….

Of course, he wouldn't have known how ill he was. He would have completely missed his own clammy skin, the unnatural coolness surging through his skin, invading his health. They were in the damn mountains, for god's sake! He wouldn't have noticed the subtle change in the nature of the cold. Oh gods…

"Artemis," Sophie whispered, hands fluttering over his pale face. "Arty, oh…you don't die on me. Do understand. You can't. We've gone too far, Artemis Fowl."

He did not respond.

**XXXXXXXX**

The light was much too harsh. The sheet, a little too…worn. Scratchy. Itchy. Even with the…three layer?...he was cold. The seam of his left sock was irritating his frozen toes. There was the distinct sound of a plastic fan running in the background. The pages of a glossy magazine turning at a constant motion. Every thirty-seven seconds, exactly.

After listening to five page turns, Artemis decides it is time to open his eyes. The sight that greets him is entirely lovely, for it is Sophie who is turning the leaves of the magazine. While she was a tad dirty, with dark circles of tiredness under her eyes, she was the most beautiful sight in South America. A good sight for sore eyes. Though, her own orbs were not turned toward his own. Artemis shifted to sit up, clutching his side. A spike of pain rolled through his entire body.

"Hey," He managed softly. Sophia's head snapped up.

"Artemis." And then she was there, kneeling beside his bed, hands reaching out. One slim set of fingers curved coolly against his bruised cheek. He leaned into her touch as best he could, breathing out one slow, long breath.

"How—" He began, but she shook her head.

"Your…internal bleeding. You were going into shock. All those injuries… And there was some head trauma."

His eyes flare open, wide and frightened, but then he settles back. Obviously he's not invalid if he's sitting up talking.

Sophie stroked the back of his hand with her thumb, lightly skimming the surface. "It took us ages to get back to civilization. For a time, I thought you'd…" She drifted off, avoiding his eyes. Artemis couldn't look away. He licked his lips. Gods, was he thirsty. Sophie stood to pour him a cup in a severely chipped mug. He accepted it gratefully, making quick work of downing it all. In the meantime, Sophia had turned toward the window. Pure dawn light settled across her face. She is obviously very tired, probably famished. She has not, unless he is mistaken, showered or changed. Perhaps she wasn't offered the chance.

"How soon can we…"

"Another day. Maybe two."

"Maybe?"

"Paperwork. And we still have Bellisario to deal with…"

Artemis gave her a look, then nodded. She wouldn't have just left fools, it wasn't her at all. Sophie wasn't a murderer. She wasn't merciless. She never had been.

She looked back toward him. In the stark sheets, he looked so tiny and drained. Nothing like the powerful billionaire, a man who regularly struck fear in the hearts of all who surrounded him. Sophie could see years and years drawn across his pale face and reflected in his deep eyes. How did they end up here? In this place, with these emotions?

Artemis called her to return, then pulled her into bed beside him. Sophie didn't grumble, but put her head against his thin shoulder. He kissed the top of her coppery crown. Fingers interlocked, the pair suddenly felt the weight of weariness bear upon them. Artemis hummed a soft tune, luring Sophie into a dazed half-sleep. When his nurse stopped by an hour later, she found the two entwined, asleep. They were dreaming of home.

**Reviews are much loved! **


	15. Without Smiles or Warmth

**What the Voice Cry**

**MorbidDramaQueen10**

**I'm thinking there's only maybe two left after this sucker! Sorry it took so long…you may have to wait for the next update too. I've left Red Sky alone for a long time, and it isn't not happy with me. Like, at all. But not to fear, I've already got a slight head start. Please review! **

He typically didn't ride on other people's airlines. He much preferred the comforts his Learjet, with its deep seats, personal computer system, bedroom, and foot massagers. Even so, he couldn't rightly complain about the services provided—the air hostess had refilled his flute promptly, and he had been given a pillow without having even made a request. Though, mind you, it was stuffed with some synthetic, polyester thing, but he wasn't about to complain. Artemis Fowl had grown considerably more grateful toward the simplistic conveniences in his life ever since the South America Incident.

There was a crackle over the intercom system. _"Ladies and gentlemen, we will be descending in a littler under ten minutes. Please, raise your trays and buckle your seat belts. Your air hostess will be coming around to collect any trash. We should be landing in New York City on time, 6:45 pm, Eastern Time. Travelers continuing to Denver may stay in their seats, and passengers going to Atlanta need to continue to the terminal 17B. Thank you."_

Artemis raised his tray and stowed his laptop. The air hostess passed him, smiling brightly. He returned it; though the skin stretching across his tired face just made him feel older, rather than authentically happy. Thank the gods he did not have a seat mate.

Holly had called upon him last night, to collect Frond's Heart. It had been three months since he recovered the damned piece of jewelry. And, oddly enough, it had taken ages for the visa to get through the LEP uppers. Artemis would've considering the powerful little thing to be more of a priority, considering it was in what most considered an unstable human's hands. But no, he had to wait.

She had been glad to see her old friend. As of late, his messages had been cause for concern. Short, filled with scorching language, she was under the impression that nothing good was going on the Aboveground. After the business was done, and before the goodbye hug, Holly had asked tentatively of his currently life.

The billionaire had smiled. "Fine, Holly. Trying to cut back on the business, you know. Pursuing the more meaningful things in life."

"Ah." Had been all the elf said. And then she was gone, unsure of what comfort she could give.

He was alone on this plane, traveling to the states. Again. Only, this time, he hadn't the slightest clue as to _why_. Only that Something Had Gone Wrong. Terribly wrong.

**XXXXXXXXXXXX**

"Are you sure you don't need a cane, or something?"

"My legs are fine, Sophie."

"Still, I'm sure the extra support would be nice. A wheelchair?"

"I am not being pushed around as though I am some cripple. I can walk."

"But-" He gave her a heavy look, and Sophie stopped protesting.

When they boarded the plane in Chile, he had hoped they would be landing in Ireland by the end of the day. However, a nasty case of turbulence closed any of those hopes. They had to stop in Mexico (which was originally listed as a place to refuel, but the pause in their trip was supposed to last less than an hour), then again in New York. There was, one time, a chance of being rerouted to Newfoundland. At that point, Artemis found some random fool that was in charge, leaned in very close, and explained just what would occur if he and his traveling partner were made to any more late than they already were.

Needless to say, the flight schedule was changed to suit their needs.

Then, quite quickly, they were back. Three a.m.—Sophie, head lolling against the glass of her window, saw the familiar sight of Fowl Manor's fortified walls, draped in elegant ropes of vines. Ella was most likely asleep, but she didn't care. She would simple kiss her baby, then find somewhere to sleep. Perhaps the floor of Ella's room. Yes, that sounded like a pleasant idea.

Artemis opened up the passenger side door, gently grasped one her elbows and led her up the worn stone steps. The imposing door opened with surprising ease. Butler met them directly, entering from a room off the foyer. He nodded to the pair, then proceeded outside to bring in the bags. Together, Sophie and Artemis hobbled up the massive grand staircase, offering support with what functioning limbs they had between them. The pace was slow, but neither mind. It was a quiet homecoming. Perfect, considering their whirlwind departure.

He guided Sophie to a simple door. The room was alone in its section of hallway. She hesitated, glancing up to Artemis. His hand rested on the silver knob of the door handle, nodding. The door slid open. Taking the cue, Sophie stepped in.

Ella was asleep as predicted. Sophie sank to the floor beside the bed, hands caressing her daughter's tiny face. Leaning in for a soft kiss, she inhaled the clean, sweet scent of her child. It was good to be back, even if it was Fowl Manor.

Artemis sat beside her, drawing his legs up to his chest, then wincing. His chest had been bound, his arm set, scrapes and cuts stitched or plastered, bruises examined. Every inch ached. How could one body have so many injuries? He straightened his legs. Sophie gave him a look that clearly said _"Go to bed, you big twit."_

The billionaire smiled. _"All right, then." _And he curled up against her folded legs. Sophie rolled her eyes. He would probably be in more pain when he awoke than now. Stupid.

After a few minutes of yawning, she recognized it as a good idea. Ella surely wouldn't miss a pillow or two.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

Breakfast was taken on the bedroom floor, with the three of them sitting cross-legged on the center carpet, chatting and passing the marmalade 'round. Ella was on her second cup of coco and nibbling upon her third piece of toast, and Sophie and Artemis's story wasn't even halfway through. Her eyes were wide, flickering between the pair of adults. The tale wasn't unbelievable, but still quite stunning.

Artemis shifted his sling. Eating breakfast with one hand was an experience; though not one he wanted to repeat. Sophie caught his eye, grinning. She was just getting on to the part describing the breaking and mending of that particular arm. But it was the aftermath he favored.

She had done so well, his Sophie. But it wasn't any sort of surprise—she worked best under pressure. Yes, she had exceeded his expectations. Then again, he never thought she'd break his arm. But that aside…Sophie had truly shown herself to have grown up. She'd eventually found a way to push her emotions aside to work with him. How able, how graceful and brilliant she'd become. Oh, she had always been tricky and clever. But today she was…

He was jostled out of his thoughts by a nudge from his daughter. "What is the Heart, Mr. Fowl?"

"Call me Artemis." He almost said automatically. The, internally horrified with himself, he coughed. Sophie's eyebrows were raised.

"It is a primitive tool used to ensure a nation of its agricultural prosperity. If used properly, the owner will reap the rewards and own a wealthy empire. However, if the person who possesses it becomes greedy-then the land is plagued with suffering."

Sophie appeared confused. "But you said—"

"The wrong kind of people can use it the right way." Artemis explained. "And it's usually not very pretty. Though it's all a matter of perspective."

"So, how do you use it?"

He exchanged glances with Sophie again. This time, she had not the slightest idea why. "The most powerful woman in the land wears it. And then, it's done."

Ella scrunched her nose. "That's it?"

Artemis grinned, popping a grape into his mouth. Sophie rolled her eyes and passed him his second cup of tea. He accepted it taking a sip before he offered his daughter an answer.

"Not much more mortals can do." He explained. "It's not a human device."

"Are you going to use it?" The girl asked, fingering the edge of her bathrobe. Sophie scooted over to pull her daughter between her legs, resting her chin upon the child's head. A curtain of wavy red hair blocked Ella's view, so she swept it aside carefully.

Her host shook his head. "No. It's too dangerous now. Too many times in recent history it's power has been abused. There is always a chance of negative consequences—who knows what nation may rise up to be a world power, if their economy is boosted in such a manner? And there are certainly a number of nations nobody wants to see in that position."

Ella nodded, catching his drift easily. Her mother smiled lightly. Brilliant girl.

They finished their meal, then parted to recuperate in their own personal ways. Sophie jumped on Artemis's offer of using his parent's bathroom, which housed a Jacuzzi and sound system he knew she'd lust after. Artemis himself took a very long shower and helped himself to a shot of aged scotch he'd held back for special occasion. After which he retrieved the Heart from his bags. It rested in a velvet jewelry box, the kind taken home after buying a loved one a fine piece. He dangled it from the chain. It shown in the gentle morning light, sending amber flecks upon the carpet, walls, and Artemis's drained face. It wasn't beautiful, or even pretty. However, it had a certain grace about its twisted lines and mixed elements. There weren't five women he could name that would openly wear it.

He could feel the warmth, the surge whole, undiluted energy run into his veins. He hadn't touched magic in a long time. It felt…welcoming. Intoxicatingly full. His body sang with power. More than it ever had before.

Artemis opened his eyes, dropping the Heart back into the case and shut the lid. There was no reason to become attached—he was returning the cursed thing to the fairies as soon as possible. Keeping it above ground for much longer would be of no use to anyone.

He stood. Hopefully Sophie would be done by now, or at least in a relatively short amount of time. They would gather again for lunch, and then maybe he might talk her into staying.

**XXXXXXXXX**

Thing did not exactly work out as he planned. They did have lunch, outside on the stone patio overlooking the gardens. However, it wasn't spent discussing Sophie's new living arrangements, but rather how his business has functioned over the last five days. His manager of the Dublin offices had popped in for an unannounced visit. Artemis, who normally did not tolerate such things, was forced to listen to the man ramble on about stocks because Sophia had insisted that she and Ella would be fine if they had an extra lunch mate.

After lunch, Sophie begged off the afternoon walk Artemis proposed, saying she had planned on a nap. However, Ella offered to accompany him. He had no choice but to accept. He followed her skipping steps up the stone pathways, pausing occasionally as she sniffed a flower or commented on some particularly elegant design. Living in the city she had rarely seen so many plants in one place. To his surprise, he found pleasure in introducing new species and varieties to the girl. She was an attentive listen, and asked quick, well-thought out questions. After circling the whole of the garden, they went back into the house, where Butler greeted them with lemonade. Artemis didn't miss the burn his beverage kicked back. Butler had been thoughtful enough to add an extra ingredient.

Sophie didn't make an appearance until four in the afternoon. Her host was strained to find entertainment for her daughter—he hadn't a clue what little girls liked. Did she want to paint? Cook? Read? Watch a movie? Ella finally settled on watching National Geographic in his study, nursing a large ginger ale and a bowl of popcorn.

When Sophie did arise, she wasn't interested in talking about living arrangements. At all. She was far keener on discussing the discovery they had made the day previously. Precisely, what they were going to do with the other pieces. Artemis attempted to steer her toward more serious conversation, but Sophie was not having it. She demanded to know what he planned, what percentage was going to museums and auctions. Artemis was forced to admit that he hadn't even considered any of this within the last twelve hours. Sophie wasn't pleased.

"We need to do something." She insisted. "The Chilean government can only hold Bellisario for so long. The more we wait, the more likely it is he's contacted someone who can retrieve everything!"

She stood, pacing the carpeted floor. They were in her apartments, the main room. He'd repainted it for her arrival. Sophie was fond of the old colour, but updates were necessary.

"Bellisario has been secured." Artemis said tiredly, one hand massaging his temple.

"How?"

He stirred his tea, sighing. "Sophie, I've not gotten all the details…just allow yourself to assured that virtually nothing stands in the way of us retrieving the artifacts. Bellisario is occupied, believe me. There are currently five countries fighting to have him hold trial in their courts. He's in a high-security holding cell, in Argentina, awaiting his eight trials."

"Eight?" She asked, frowning, then shook her head. "Alright, whatever. But what about—"

"Sophie."

"—The retrieval? Are you going? I'm coming, I'm not about to let a group of nerd-heard historians and archeologists handle my—"

"Sophie…"

"It's unreasonable to expect that everything will be brought up, anyways, I mean, the place probably has more rooms…and what about all that technology? You can't keep everyone from talking—"

Artemis had stood, gathered her wrists between his hands, and kissed her firm on the mouth. It was an effective method. Sophie shut up, watching Artemis as he traced gentle circles on her knuckles with his thumbs. He chose his words carefully.

"The matter is settled. I don't want think about artifacts." At this, Sophie opened her mouth to protest, but Artemis cut across her swiftly. "I would much rather discuss other…issues. Sophia…This is…"

He cleared his throat sharply. "This event has proved that we can still work together, if we are determined, and reach our goals with relative ease, something I think we'd both thought had been lost. But we did. Sophie, we succeed. _Together_. If we can take on mythology, think about what else is out there waiting for us…"

She expected the next words to be somewhat related to treasure hunting, artifact discovery, etc. Certainly not…

"…we could try again. Sophie, stay. Here. With me."

Well. Well…he'd always known how to make her breathless. In more than a few ways.

Sophia may have appeared to be relatively calm on the exterior, but inside she was going into shock. After the shock, came panic. And then fear.

"_Stay?" _She croaked.

Artemis leaned forward eagerly. "Yes. We can repair the studio, and Ella would have her own room, and you could open up a gallery in Dublin, if you like, or Cork or Galway. There are several private schools, in the city, Ella would be fond of I'm sure, and—"

He rambled on, with Sophie just staring ahead blankly. She couldn't fathom what put the notion into his head. Yes, they had been getting along, and getting maybe a little physical, but how could he interpret that as consenting to staying, or even trying again, for that matter. All he saw was instant agreement! She had been hoping to maybe try dating again, introduce him to Ella, let him go the distance to prove it was love of her, rather than love of comfort, that drew Artemis to the Ivers. Having a ready-made family would be easy for him, comfortable, even. But, oh no. He couldn't simply waltz in and expect her to accept his proposal! It was madness.

"Sophie?"

She jerked out of her internal rambling to see him staring at her, a concerned expression upon his pale face. Sophie realized he must've stopped the monologue to seek her opinion on matters. Well, he'd get it in a few brisk words. A simple statement starting with "_You great arse…"_

Opening her mouth to being the scolding, she paused. Artemis was looking at her. Just _looking _at her with those shining blue eyes, almost an _adoring _gaze. He clearly longed for her to say yes, to take away the last nine years of suffering.

She could do it. Say the words, change their lives. For the better, perhaps. Right now, Sophie Iver could give her daughter a father, a secure future, a business empire, herself a husband, and Artemis a family. She could change everything, and nobody would think more or less of her for it.

Except…

But…

Sophie couldn't.

"Artemis, I'm not feeling well." The words just appeared, without any encouragement. The young woman turned away, to face the doorway to her bedroom. "I think I'll lie down."

"Alright." She heard a shuffling behind her. Perhaps he was sitting. Then, softly: "We'll speak more on this later, Sophia."

Without another sound, she walked into her sleeping chambers and closed the door. Then she closed her eyes, and attempted to find a way out of this pathetic mess she had made nearly nine years ago.

**XXXXXXXX**

The next morning, Butler woke later than usual. Curious, he thought, seeing as my three-figure alarm clock was usually reliable in waking me. Pressing the set button, he was surprised to find that the alarm time had been set forward by nearly two hours. It was late enough that even Artemis would probably up. Especially considering their house guests. Sophie wasn't big on sleeping in. Well, at least, not anymore. And it seemed Ella had picked up the inclination to arise early.

Butler didn't think much of the alarm's mistake. Knowing his sister, he wouldn't have been surprised to discover that it was she who tampered with the thing. She had commented on his lack of sleep last night, and would have had no trouble sneaking into his quarters at the lodge and resetting the alarm's time. He did not once consider the other people in the house who might hold any sneak-like abilities.

It took him a bit of time to find the Manor's single conscious occupant; he stood in the dining room, holding back the heavy brocade drapes to look out the room's arched window. The uneven leaded glass looked out upon the drive and eventually the massive gates. Artemis had a blank face, void of any readable expression. His eyes flickered up and down the stone driveway, scanned the skyline. His lips were unnaturally dry, and his left hand—the one not holding the drapes—was clenched in a tight fist, veins standing out through near-white skin. It was altogether, a concerning sight. Butler remained silent, waiting to hear Artemis's explanation.

There had been a path, leading to this room. Destruction marked Artemis's journey from the third landing on the servant's stairs, to the hallway, then further on to the Great Hall, foyer, parlor and finally the dining room. Broken vases, upturned chairs and tables, flowers strew about, crystal brandy decanter throw over, pillows tossed into corners, papers shoved off desks…he had first suspected his employer and the eldest house guest to be occupying each other in the dead of the night, but no. Artemis was here. Alone.

"It's strange, how people act sometimes, isn't it?"

Butler's brow furrowed. "Artemis?"

"How they never really change. Oh, appearances alter, maturity and manners evolve." Artemis continued, eyes never leaving the view set before him. "But they never truly change in their actions. Always predictable."

He fell silent again. Then, swallowing:

"Gone. Again."

Butler was stunned. "What?"

"Sophia." The young billionaire snapped. "Gone—left, departed, quitted the premises, disappeared, vanished…gone."

"How?"

Artemis dropped the drape, letting it swing back into place. His hand had left a clearly sweaty impression.

"She called a cab around four and left before four-forty-five." He said wearily. "Must've had it planned for hours."

"And she took—"

"Ella."

The name hung in the air like smoke. Butler saw his young master's hand unclench itself, but then furl and unfurl over and over. His fingers must have gone numb.

He had, once more, lost the woman he adore above all others.

It was more than a little numbing.

But standing around moping was as about as useful as a cold bucket of squid. He needed to begin again. This time…this time she wasn't walking away without some explanation. And certainly not without some custody arrangement-the DNA results had been sitting in his inbox this morning. He was a father.

Pity this news came nearly nine years too late.

**XXXXXXXXXXXX**

After collecting his baggage (something he'd never done in his life in over 30 years of air travel) Artemis made his way outside to hail a cab (again, a first). The idea was to come without pomp or circumstance, without even Butler shadowing him, to prove that he could live in her world, by her rules. It was humbling. She had to see it. Artemis Fowl the Second did not, ever, under any circumstances, travel A) without protection and B) without personal, refined transportation. No Fowl did. Surely Sophie would understand this gesture.

Surely.

But then again, he'd had that hope before.

The ride was one of the longest in his life. She lived in Queens, not terribly far from LaGuardia. He had expected her to reside in SoHo, when he learned of her move to New York. However, she chose Queens for its rise in art culture, and probably its vicinity in relation to the airport. Sophie was always one for quick, convenient escapes.

When he reached her apartment, he hesitated before knocking. This conversation could go one of two ways: very well, or…well, not at all.

He took a breath, swallowed and knocked.

**XXXXXXXXX**

The young dark-haired girl opened the door eagerly. When she saw who the knocker was, however, her excitement dropped like a stone off the Eiffel Tower, turning into confusion, and eventually, fear. Artemis didn't move, didn't even twitch. He had arrived without anything besides his suitcase. His hands were clasped out before him, empty. Artemis waited, holding his breath, praying she would just give him a chance. The eternal hazel eyes, near reflections of his own, scanned him over swiftly before silently moving aside to allow him entrance. He noted that she was especially careful to shut the door soundlessly.

They stood in a hallway-like foyer. There was a narrow table against one wall, and row of hooks on the other with a mixed collection of shoes underneath. Two family portraits hung on the sage-coloured walls, featuring the two occupants of the apartment and a large grey dog. A pendant lamp lit the room softly. Two doorways led to the left and right. The floors were a honey-coloured wood. It was fairly charming, comfortable.

After checking around a corner that appeared to lead to an equally cozy sitting room (or as Sophie called it, _living room_), Ella turned back to Artemis. He crouched to her eye level. Eye to eye, he could now see a faint rim of gold around the girl's iris. She, in turn, inspected him up and down. The Armani tag, hand-sewn Italian loafers, the gold disk strung on a leather thong, the wire-frame glasses (fake, with thin, flat lenses). In observing each other, they found the same thing-Extraordinary, and yet not.

"How are you, Ella?" He started quietly.

The girl angled her head, much like her mother did when curious. "I'm…fine."

There was an extended pause.

"Why are you here, Mr. Fowl? Mama…" She faltered, with a restrained expression. "Mother doesn't want to see you."

He hadn't even asked. Sighing, Artemis straightened. "I know. Very well, let me assure you." He chuckled, then grew somber. "And I am sorry for that. But I need to see her."

Ella hesitated. "Why?"

"I need to explain…the situations under which she left. I need her to explain to me a few why she left. But I would prefer that we talk before I speak to her, Would that be acceptable?"

Ella nodded, mute. Then she turned to lead him to the kitchen. Artemis trailed after her, examining the living quarters.

**XXXXXX**

"_Made with Grade A cacao beans, Godiva hot chocolate is a step up from traditional winter beverages. Indulge yourself in our tropical blend…."_

Artemis had to admit, it was good chocolate. Ella knew how to make wonderfully delicious coco, with cinnamon and whip cream she had whipped herself topping the rich liquid. Certainly far better than any of his attempts.

The chef in question sat across the breakfast bar, sipping her own drink staring pensively at her rather old guest. The girl was serious, obviously intent on discovering the reason behind his visit. She was clearly focused. So much like a younger version of her guest. Butler had been right. Artemis was surprised to find himself unnerved by the child's tabby eyes. He could face evil genius pixies, Spiro, a clan of war-hungry demons with less fear than what was welling up inside him now. His daughter. Half of him. Hopefully the better half. How had Sophie managed to keep her from him for so long?

**XXXXXX**

The answer was a long one.

Eight years ago, Sophie left Fowl Manor with the intent of never returning. She had buried her sister, buried her life. It was behind her. In the past. She was now free to move forward, look to a safe, normal career. Though the freedom came under regrettable circumstances, it was freedom nonetheless. And she took it with ferocity.

After arranging storage affairs in New York, she took up residence in London, working for a computer graphics company. It was a simple, 9-5 job that always seemed boring. But Sophie was appreciative of the normalcy. She was finally, finally like everyone else with a house, a car, a dog (the damned cat was left in Ireland). Occasionally a coworker would display interest in dating, but she brushed the all off with charming smiles. Every Saturday night was spent in the corner pub with new friends. She went to shows, walked in the park, went to bed before one a.m. Life was simple, regular, boring. In other words, perfect.

Then came the phone call.

And after that, the plane to Ireland.

She wasn't sure why Artemis felt he had to pull on her heartstrings to get her back into the country. But he had, claiming to be under great mental distress. Sophie, being Sophie, made some witty retort, then booked a flight. Regardless of differences, Artemis was her friend. They were friends. She couldn't turn her back on him, not now.

And considering he had collapsed, while merely walking up the stairs…

The young man greeted her with sallow skin and dead eyes. According to Juliet, he had barely slept or ate since her departure. The company had been neglected. His parents, vacationing in France, had been informed, but Artemis had convinced them that he was perfectly alright, it was just the stress of work, and Tara's premature death. They had come home for the funeral, but that had been months ago. Artemis had virtually abandoned himself, throwing himself into research and science. For what cause, nobody knew. He was neither talkative nor open. It was all quite frightening for Juliet and Butler, who watched the formally vibrant young billionaire deteriorate over the

Sophie, disapproving, sent him to bed with a cup of tea and hot soup. He slept for a day and a half.

Then was the night he woke screaming. Sophie, who had taken to sleeping in the office adjoining, had flown to his side. Her host, in the cold of his fear, sought the warmth of her arms. And much more.

There was no true excuse. Sophie stopped neither him nor herself. The guilt would later consume her—had she taken advantage of him? Later, she saw it as his attempt to pull her back. Regardless, it had happened. And Sophie had dealt with the consequences with all the grace allowed.

Shortly after the encounter, Sophie left.

Nine months later, Ella came into the world, only to be quickly sent to Bali. Sophie's uncle and his girlfriend owned a quiet little hotel on an isolated beach. They had few guests, lived a relaxing, simple life. Sophie knew her near-step-aunt's love of children, and jump on the chance. The middle-aged couple happily took the baby while Sophie relocated to the city that never slept. Once every couple months she returned for a weekend. It wasn't ideal, but it was safe. Ella grew to be a sweet, bouncy toddler, loved by her small family.

This went on for three years, until Sophie felt secure enough to again move her child. Ella was given to a kind couple, the Parkers—missionaries, who were building schools and orphanages in India. Sophie met the young wife, who longed for another child to join their family of four, in her gallery. She was wandering amongst the paintings, sighing when she came across one portrait of a child. She had touched the frame, smiling softly. Sophie had then struck her up for a chat, and then lunch. Two months later, three-year-old Ella was a resident if India. She had a brother and a sister, two parents. Sophie stopped her visits, deciding it would be too suspicious for her to spend much time with a family she'd never truly met before. It was a change.

Then came the phone call. It seemed every bit of bad news she was ever to receive was to be through a plastic handset.

Terrorists had bombed an ashram the Parkers happened to be visiting that weekend. Then a second group had gone in to kill all survivors. The children were, thank the gods, staying at the orphanage at the time. Sophie boarded a plane in merely an hour hearing the news. She took just Ella—the other two had grandparents who could care for them—and flew back to the city. The toddler, confused, had cried for a solid week before the fever broke, and Sophie made her mark. In less than six months, her daughter had nearly no memory of her life in India or Bali. She was quick to adapt to the city, quick to make friends, quick to call Sophia "Momma." Sophie kept her out of the limelight for the most part, introducing her only to Marvin and her gallery staff.

The rest was history.

**XXXXXXXXX**

"Are you in school?" He begins, rubbing the sides of his mug with pale thumbs.

Ella looked up from her cup. "Mother home schools me. And Marvin helps, he teaches me about math and stocks."

"Stocks?"

"Yeah, he makes me look them up in the paper and track them."

"Do you have any?" His interest has been peaked.

She shrugs, obviously not interested. She turns the conversation on to his life. "You own Fowl Industries?"

He coughed. "Yes. And Fowl Star. And Fowl Technologies."

"Marvin has one of your phones."

He knew he liked that man. "Yes, well, they are known for being some of the best. Are you interested in business, Ella?"

The girl raised her eyebrows. "Are you?"

Artemis leaned back, eyeing her. He certainly was—but more interested in her going into business. With him. Ella would be a brilliant heir, he was certain. Sophie just had to be convinced of it. But that was not why he was here, drinking coco with his daughter.

"Tell me, Ella. How is your mother, truly?"

Ella squirmed. "She's quiet. We don't talk much, or anything. She just goes to the studio, works, comes home and reads… she'll only eat if I put something in front of her. I..don't think she's been sleeping. I think something about the events of three months ago is giving her insomnia."

Artemis nodded. It would make sense, he'd been unable to sleep as well. He had resorted to prescriptions on multiple occasions. Sophie wasn't one to use drugs often, if ever. She didn't use anything, if it could be help. He was certain she had most likely just passed out when her body could no longer take the exhaustion. It would be very typical of her.

They made small talk for a few more minutes until Artemis finally asked: "May I…see her?"

His daughter gave a slow nod. She glanced to a glass door. Artemis followed her gaze.

**XXXXXXX**

They did not have a balcony, but a rusted fire escape. Which apparently had a great view and appropriate amount of solitude for Sophie's evening smoking break. He hadn't known her to smoke, but here she was, a stick of orange and white clasped between two glossy lips while she leaned against the railing. The lips parted to exhale a few near-perfect smoke rings. She did not at first appear to notice him, which gave him a chance to examine the young woman. She had gained weight, though not much. She was softer, the hard lines of her face and mouth relaxed. The copper hair, which was rarely seen restrained, was held back by an enamel clip. Even so, he could tell it was shorter—she had sheared off at least two inches, coloured it, too. It was perhaps two or three shades darker. Her tones would often changes from lighting and weather, however, from the crisp shine was obviously the result of a salon visit.

Then he moved on to her clothes; a pair of skinny jeans, glittering ballet flats (which had been kicked aside as she stood barefoot), and a loose black off-the-shoulder cotton tee, which read BAD WOLF RISING in large blue script. He supposed it was another one of her Indie-rock bands. She had a number of oddly-named bands she had collected over the years, and she owned a lot of their t-shirts. Basically, a lot of ugly t-shirts.

"Lovely evening." He ventured.

"Hmmm." Sophie grunted, drawing her cigarette back to her mouth. It was, to be quite honest, but she was not about to agree with him.

Artemis waited, but Sophie seemed determined to make him start. Her eyes never strayed from the skyline, speckled with skyscrapers and lights. The young man scowled. "It was a long flight, Sophie. You could be a little more hospitable."

"I didn't invite you." She reminded him. "And I am sure there are many hotels that would be glad to service you, Fowl."

So, he had been degraded down to "_Fowl," _without even a _"Mr," _now. "Yes, but none of them have the warmth of your smile."

The look she shot him had neither a smile nor warmth.

**I hope you enjoyed it. Please review. **


	16. Weight

**Weight**

"So," His former fiancé began, puffing out another fat ring of smoke. "You sold roughly a third of our collection."

"I credited you with the discovery. It was no easy matter, as you refused to comment to the press and live an ocean away." Artemis input drily. "Especially considering we have never, as far as the public knows, ever met. Yet we joined forces to find a mythological treasure. Curious."

Sophie released a long, pained sigh. "I never asked for any of this. You could've said you found it all by yourself using your… Spidy senses for all I care."

Artemis rubbed his hands together. "Most of the funds are in a secure account for Ella. I've also got a few pieces held back for you, but I wasn't sure if they would come through customs."

Sophie rounded on him. "Customs? You flew without the Learjet? With other people?" Her expression was one of extreme shock and horror. Artemis, inflicting himself upon the innocent souls just hoping to make it across the Atlantic alive.

"First class." He admitted wearily, shifting nervously. "May I?" He gestured to the railing. Sophie scooted to give him room, staring. The simple act of flying without his private jet spoke volumes. Artemis had never, in the course of their relationship, flown in anyone's aircraft but his own. He hated mixing with "common" people, loathed dealing with the air hostesses, and could not stand airports. To sacrifice the hours of waiting, bumble of loud voices and crowds was simply unreal, in his mind.

"Is Butler with you?"

Artemis coughed. "No. He's still at the Manor. I came alone."

"Oh."

"_Oh" _indeed. While Artemis was no longer attached to Butler's hip, it was still stunning he'd managed to leave the manservant home.

"I was hoping to discuss what to do with the remainder of our 'loot.' And…Ella?"

Sophie did not know where to begin. She's been waiting for this call for some time. Truly, it surprised her he'd taken so long. Three months ago, when she and her daughter landed in LaGuardia, Sophie was faced with a decision; uproot again or stay in the city. Either way, Artemis was sure to find them once again. While relocating could give them years of blessed privacy, the event would hang over their heads until its completion. So she wisely opted to stay put, thinking that things would eventually work themselves out.

And they were. Artemis was here. Here and not, apparently, trying to convince her to come back with him. Oh, no. He wanted her daughter.

"…I'm sure by now you have deduced I took the liberty of testing your daughter for common alleles between her and myself during our little trip last July."

Well, of course she had gathered that much from Ella's description of Butler's excuses for a saliva request. It was another one of those "only a matter of time" things she had been waiting for. Undoubtedly, Artemis had sent the samples to the very best labs—most likely his own—and they had been tested at least three times before being sent back. She had no doubt as to what the results were.

He was aggravated now, running thin hands through his inky hair. Either he'd started dying, or the white was growing out.

"Nine years. _Nine years, _you've known."

Sophie didn't answer. Her mouth was already occupied with her cigarette. And besides, he wasn't done speaking yet.

"I can, to some extent, understand your demented reasoning behind keeping the truth from me. Neither of us has been rational, over the last decade, especially when interacting with one another. My…kidnapping of you is just move evidence of that. Then, as is your behavior in regards to Ella. But we must put aside all grudges. If not for the sake of our individual sanity, then for hers. I won't deny my concerns with how this will affect her psychologically. However, I am certain if we work together we can guarantee her a secure future and a happy childhood. I'm not going to insist she return to Ireland. Yet, Sophie, even you can see as my reasons. As my heir…"

She did understand. As Ella's father, he had a right to see her. It made sense, truly. What didn't make sense was how…reasonable Artemis was being. Here he stood, offering to keep Ella in the city rather than just spiriting her away to Dublin without a second thought.

"_Why?"_ was all she could croak out.

Artemis frowned. "She's my daughter. I want her to inherit the company, the Manor. Everything."

Everything. Her little 9-year-old kitchen prodigy was in line to succeed to the Fowl ranks. The child who couldn't make a bed to save her life, heiress to billions.

It had always been an option, of course. As soon as Sophie had known she was pregnant, she ran through all the scenarios in her head. Plans were made. Her first thought was of course she couldn't _keep _the baby—her lifestyle was far too narrow, a taut thread always about to snap under the pressure. The general idea was to have the child raised elsewhere, away from Artemis's prying eyes. If he could one day learn to behave himself, she would consider informing him of child. In the event of her death, the child would be sent to Artemis, no questions. While he was dangerous, she did trust him enough to raise her daughter-when she herself was gone. Still living, she feared his manipulative nature would seep into any relationship he might develop with the kid, simply as a method of getting back at her. With Sophie dead, he'd have no reason to use his own child in such a manner.

But now he knew. And she wasn't dead.

So, what now?

Sophie took a long drag. She hadn't slept well, since the South American Incident. A few hours here and there when she felt peckish. Occasionally an afternoon nap, with the help of a sleeping aid. The results of her long nights were beginning to show; dark circled eyes with worn joints, a painful reminder. Surprisingly she'd gained weight, though this could be attributed to Ella's almost manic cooking, exhibiting her flare for food at every opportunity. Once amends had been made with Marvin and his beau, her cooking lessons had recommenced. Reinstalled as the house chef, the nine-year-old was quick to whip up pastries and soups. She was the caring sort, the kind who believed good food translated love. Sophie hadn't the heart to tell her Mother just didn't want to eat, so she suffered through the perfect soufflés and savory crêpes in silence.

"I've got the distinct feeling that you've known about her for more than just a year." Sophie's gaze returned to the cityscape.

He inclined his head. "You would be right."

"But you decided to wait. Crawl out of the woodwork at the last possible minute. Why?"

Artemis was quiet. "I wasn't entirely sure she was mine. I wasn't entirely sure if I was ready to be a father. And you still didn't trust me."

"What makes you think I trust you now?" Sophia snorted. Artemis winced at the sound. It was far from attractive.

"How can you not?" There was an incredulous edge to his voice. "You do trust me. You must, else you wouldn't let me lug you all the way to Peru."

"Let you!" She sputtered, yanking her cigarette out from between her lips. "I most certainly did not—"

"You did not seem keen on leaving, when I gave you the choice." He pointed out. "In fact, I believe you were the one who insisted we soldier on. Would you have done that if you didn't trust me?"

Sophie is left with a gaping mouth and burning cigarette between her fingers. It was suddenly clear. Painfully, brilliantly clear. She was entirely gobsmacked.

"You…_you…!" _

Had it not been such a serious moment Artemis would have surely smirked. But Sophia Iver probably would have smacked him. He'd been at the receiving end of a few of those. They were far for pleasant. She had retained her hand from the old days. Most likely through excessive practice.

The cigarette had fallen to the grated metal below. Her fists were shaking. If this had been a cartoon, her face would have been beet red and her nose and ears smoking. However, this was not a cartoon. This was real life. Really real life. And Sophie was _really _pissed. After a few more moments of raged stuttering, the young artist had finally regained her voice.

"You scheming, lying, manipulative foul little—"Her voice was low, teeth gritted. "—arrogant _ass."_

He couldn't resist. She hadn't called him an ass in quite some time. Out came the smirk.

"How…" One hand flew up to smack her forehead. "How did you think scheming a plan to build any sort of credibility and trust between us would actually _work? _You can't schedule _trust?"_

"To be fair," He admitted. "I did only plan the El Dorado section. Bellisario's interaction was…suggested, I'll admit, but I had not planted it in as a solid part of the plan. It was just a nice bonus. Minerva and Aram knew, of course."

"Regardless! All of it was a scheme!"

He shrugged. "You're only partially right. I had hoped our little adventure would inspire a good confidence between us. I won't claim it to be my primary goal, but it was a goal. If you could grow to trust me, I might persuade you to bring Ella into my life. As well as yourself."

"Everything—"

"I certainly didn't plan breaking my own arm." He cut her off wryly. "Nor Juan's fall. But the points when I told you we ought to return, the moments of choice—that was entirely left up to you. Had you given up, I would have dropped our bargain and let you return home. But you wanted to go on. So I let you. You trusted me enough to know I was right as to the treasure's location. You let me guide you, let me lead you to the Heart."

"So, wait, the Heart was fake?"

"Oh no." Artemis raised his brows, excited. "It was very real. Did Bellisario have a single speak of a chance of finding it? No. Not at all. Was the thing nearly as dangerous as I made it out to be? Probably not. It is a fairy artifact, a powerful one at that. But probably nowhere near as influential as, say, the Harry Potter series. It's just a piece of jewelry no human would have the intellect to possess."

For his trouble, Artemis was punched. "Ouch."

"Drama queen." Sophie griped. "You made me jump through all those damn hoops just so you could create some fake trust. Even under torture, you managed to lie, you conniving bastard. Whatever happened to that back-falling trick kids used to do at summer camp? Why not something simple?" Another punch (naturally followed by another "_Ouch!"). _"You're like a little boy with your toy soldiers. Damn you, Artemis!"

He rubbed his arm, but did not lean away. "I am not sorry."

"I know." She grumbled, tucking her crossed arms beneath her breast as she leaned more heavily on the railing. "You never are. Never regretted a single thing in your life, have you?"

"I wouldn't go so far as to say that."

They fall quiet, each pondering the other's words. Both were hurt, in their own ways. Artemis had gotten better at hiding his injury. Sophie's solution was to simple ignore him while she stowed her lighter and smothered the smoldering cigarette. Finally, she sighed.

"You've always got to test people, don't you?"

He shrugged again. "You always have to run."

That quails her, temporarily. She shuffles her feet. He was, after all, quite right.

"I would have let you leave," Artemis said. "If you would have just talked to me, we might have worked something out."

She shook her head. "You typically don't give me the chance."

"I am now." His tone was tinged with anger. "When are you going to stop running? Give me a chance. You stopped trying a long time ago. But even you have to admit it; I've changed."

Sophie opens her mouth, ready to defend herself—but…he was right. She'd quit trying to mend their relationship the second she thought it couldn't work out. She had been quick to cut him out, swift to deliver a sentence: failure. Her mouth shuts slowly, and she swallows, mouth feeling dry. For whatever reason, she begins to crave coco. Artemis smells faintly of chocolate. Perhaps he's the cause of her craving.

"You have." She allows quietly. "You really have."

He waited.

"More than I could've ever imagined. Pushiness and bullying aside, you've changed. Even from the start of July to now, you've altered. Look at you! You look healthy, for once. Sane." Sophie's choked. "Before, for years, every time I saw you I thought it was going to be the last time. You barely slept, wouldn't eat…when you did sleep, I heard you cried out a lot. Everything came down to work, right? And for the longest time, I was damning myself, thinking you were like that because of me. Then I realized, _you_ were really the only one hurting yourself. And that made it easier, I think, to accept. But after tonight…"

She drifted off, smoothing the flesh of her cool arms with stiff fingers. "I've got it now. You're better. Completely better. I think I know why. You've got something to care about now, yeah? Ella. Besides, now you've—"

"What?" Artemis was eager. Sophie looked out from beneath her lashes.

"You're over me. You don't care. I knew it the moment you step out here. You're not here to take me back, are you? It's all about Ella. It's Ella you want."

He's nodding as soon as she's done. Sophie didn't even know she had tears left.

"I'm sorry, it's just," She refused to make eye contact as Artemis carefully studied her face. "I've waited _years_ for you to get over us. _Years. _And then three months ago happened, and I suddenly had all these feeling again, you know? Feelings for you."

"But you left."

"I didn't know what else to do. Didn't know if it was best for Ella. And I wasn't really sure, until I boarded that plane, if they were real. But by the time I'd figured everything out, it was too late."

**XXXXXXXX**

Her daughter's purple headphones were tucked into the tiny shells of her ears, covered by her long, dark hair. It never failed to fascinate Sophie just how tiny and delicate children were, especially hers. She couldn't ever remember being tiny. Though, at some point in time (most likely her childhood) she must've been. Ella wasn't quite petite, nor was she gawky or large. She was a comfortable average, perhaps slightly taller than most of her peers. It was a good, sturdy size. Convenient for scaring the pants of bullies on the playground, and also slim enough for duck/squeezing/jumping when the situation called for more evasive actions.

They sat back in their cushioned seats as though it were the most natural thing in the world, even though eight-year-old Ella had consciously ridden in an aircraft only three times. Most youngsters her age would be excited by the experience. However, Sophie's daughter coolly flipped through the _Popular Science _magazine her mother had purchased prior to their boarding, completely content in her surroundings. It was rather terrifying for Sophia to watch. _Too much like her father._ He was a quick study as well.

That morning, Sophie wasn't sure if she ought to be relieved or heartbroken. They'd made it out of the Manor in one piece, plus or minus a few belonging; Sophie's part of the loot was still under Artemis's jurisdiction, as he was overseeing it's exportation to Ireland, but Ella had a shiny new Ipod. Their journey out of the house, past the cameras and over the gates had been something of a game for her daughter, who had already relayed her own attempts toward escape three times in the last twenty-four hours. Unlike Sophie, she had been unsuccessfully in every attempt. Also unlike Sophie, she was reluctant to leave. Ella very much liked the Manor. She liked Butler, liked the pool, liked the library and the kitchen. She greatly enjoyed the gardens, the vast greenhouses, and the Manor's collection of contemporary art. She had developed a fondness for her customized guest room. And she adored Artemis.

That was probably the worst part, in Sophie's mind. The mother had spent nearly a decade shielding her child from the man, hiding her halfway across the damn globe, giving her up not once, but _twice, _and he'd still managed to find the kid. And then said kid fell in love with him almost instantly. That ached more than a bit.

Perhaps not _that _much in comparison to her stinging heart. It thudded a million miles a minute, unwilling to accept the fact that she was truly free.

Right?

The South American Incident already seemed like a worn memory, a video played over and over, or a vacation album always brought forth at Christmas. Nice and whathaveyou, but already seen and committed to memory. The emotions attached to the experience were still there, just mixed up. Confused. Because, last time she had checked, she was…

_What? _

In love with him? Hated him? Adore him all the way down to his knobby toes? Loathed anything he touched?

_What?_

Back in the mountains, she a thought for a while that they might be able to resolve things. That maybe, just maybe they've worked passed everything holding them back. Together they had changed just enough to fit into the puzzle of each other's lives, or some other great cliché.

Now she wasn't sure. The very second he suggested moving back in, for whatever reason, Sophie's insides froze up. She couldn't help but panic. The idea was _terrifying. _But hadn't she had a thought around those very same lines, back in the cave? Hadn't she wanted to come back, to unite their small family?

Or had that just been the thin mountain air, diluting her thoughts? Sophie hardly knew.

Her chest felt constricted, pressured by the rush of emotion trailing through her. The plane had yet to take off, but she felt airsick already. Airsick, homesick, lovesick. Surely this wasn't the aftermath of the South American Incident. Surely she wasn't having second thoughts. Artemis, sweet Artemis, was holding her back again, this time without even trying. Was she going to let him?

"_Too late." _Sophie reminded herself. _"Too late the second you jumped the gate. Too late when you hid her. Too late when you left the first time. Almost nine years waiting, and you're too late."_

But maybe it wasn't. The plane had yet to make it to the runway—she could still leave. They could go back. She could apologize. It would be relatively simple. Just a matter of humility. It wasn't impossible.

Then the fasten seatbelt light had alighted with a soft _"ding!" _and that was the end of it. So simple. She couldn't go back. It was too late.

Of course, had Sophie been truly determined, rather than uncertain and scared, she could have easily demanded passage back to the terminal, verbally harassed the flight attendants into submission. There were a number of actions she _might _have taken with positive end results. However, it was not to be. Instead of jumping up to request an exit, Sophie settled back into her cushioned, dark blue (and slightly scratchy), standard airline seat, listening to the announcements of the safety routes and titles of all available in-flight movies.

**XXXXXXXXX**

"I don't expect anything from you. Just…be the father she needs. Be there." Sophie was quiet. "We've both made our decisions. Past the point of no return, right?"

Toward the end of this relatively simple statement, she attempted a small, good-natured smile. It turned out to be more of a grimace, but an attempt nonetheless. Artemis couldn't pull forth the effort to try. Surely it could not be this simple. Sophie never made it this simple.

"May I take her, then, once the autumn holidays are over?" He's followed her suit, staring out over the city's horizon. "She could come back for Christmas."

Sophie nodded, silently, choking under the pressure. She was releasing custody of her baby girl. To Artemis. An Artemis who didn't want her. Mind you, that was not the worst of it. But even so, it hurt. Far more than it ought to.

She put it out of mind. Now was about Ella. Not about her inability to make up her mind in regards to her love life. Artemis's shifting next to her brought her back to present. He was still waiting for a reply.

"Yes," Sophie started slightly from the sound of her own voice, abrupt even to her own ears. "Of course. Around Christmas. We'll have to set up email, naturally, and maybe some web cameras…oh, this joint trans-Atlantic parenting will be a challenged, Arty. I can't think of how we'll manage—she'll play us both, I'm sure. As you would expect, your daughter is quite the puppet master. Very adept in the art of manipulation—"

Babbling, the stupidest defense in the book. She went on, to Artemis's great amusement. He mercifully stopped her gently, saying "Unless you'd like come with us, Sophie."

**The Sophie flight flashback may have been confusing. That's partly good, 'cause it's all about her confusion. She has no flippin' clue what she wants at that point.**

**Also, I would like to apologize for the wait, once more, and most of all, the past-present tense errors in the last four or so chapters. You see, Red Sky is almost entirely in present tense. I often flip directly in between writing it and this, which can cause problems in the tense department. **

**I've also gotten a note that Sophie has kinda turned into a bitch. To put it simply, she is very scared, stressed, confused, and a tad paranoid when it comes to our Irish genius. Besides, she isn't too good at controlling her emotions. A tad unstable, immature in in that sense. **

**Sorry about the length. I had planned on making it longer, but I'd rather not wait. **


	17. And Air

**Ah, we have reached the end. Finally. Please read and review! **

"Ella? That man over there is gesturing for you."

The eight-year-old looked up from her violin case, where she was prepping her bow. Across the auditorium, she saw her father, waving with one hand. Next to him sat the burly Butler, looking a little uncomfortable in the auditorium seating. To put it shortly, he felt much like a sausage stuffed into much too tight a casings. Artemis had snickered when they sat down and the older fellow groaned. Speaking of her father, he was dressed in his usual Armani suit, with a lovely diamond-patterned green silk tie that matched her dress. It was planned, of course. Ella wave back, beaming. She turned to the boy who had pointed her father out.

"Thank you, Michael." She said politely. She had only been with the orchestra for about two months, even since she'd transferred to the school. It was a private facility, co-ed, with a strong arts program. Ella had been exposed to much music upon entering the Fowl household. Her mother had always been a music lover, but Artemis had taken the passion much further. Her favourite had been the collection from the Met Opera. Martin had taken her once, when she was six. It had been magical. Artemis took her frequently to the Dublin Opera House (the one he had designed). About a month after moving to Ireland, he asked her if she would desire attending an actual school. She had requested admittance to the one of the school's orchestras. After a week's worth of violin lessons and a solo before the school's board of music, she had been accepted. Michael was one of the first to speak to her. They created a distance, acquaintance-like relationship filled with courteous motions.

Most of the children had avoided her, politely. Once her relation to the nation's most recognizable billionaire had become known, the others had given her a wide berth. Ella took this in stride, however. The isolation had been mild, in comparison to her New York City life.

The change had been quick. After Sophie had agreed to the terms, Ella had been instructed to begin packing all necessary items. Most of her belongings stayed in the US, for her summer and holidays were going to be spent in the city. Artemis had taken her 'round all the best shops, collecting a whole year's worth of a wardrobe a la _Annie_ style. In less than two weeks she was in Ireland, leaving her mother behind in the LaGuardia Airport. Sophie hadn't cried, though she had been near it.

Her life had changed drastically. For the better. Everything had improved. She had a father, a real house, grandparents who clearly adored her—

The conductor had reached the podium, tapping his baton on the wooden ledge. The audience fell silent as the rows upon rows of children straightened their spines, at the ready. Artemis gave his daughter a final wave, shrugging when she raised one brow in silent question. _"I have no clue."_

Ella bit her lip. She had _promised._

They had just finished their warm-ups when a figure, walking down the aisle at a leisurely pace, caught her eye. A redhead, in a pair of killer stilettos, still in the gray silk wrap dress and blue wool coat she'd worn to work that morning. Somebody had clearly just left the gallery. Ella beamed, ducking her head.

Sophie had stayed back in New York for two weeks after Ella and Artemis's departure to tie things up on the business end. Marvin remained in control of her general income in regards to the art work, shows and other details in the like, such as the gallery Artemis had insisted on buying before he left. He had also purchased a sister gallery in Dublin. She was to paint in Ireland most of year, and return to New York in the late winters and mid-summers to attend gallery showing.

Sophie slide into the fold-down seat next to her fiancé, squeezing his hand tightly and nodding to Butler. "Sorry. Stayed a bit late. Had a new shipment of Xia dynasty era pottery, and a few ceremonial masks…She's not mad, is she?"

"Not a bit put out." He assured her. "Concerned, naturally."

Sophie nodded. "Of course. My little worrier" She said fondly. He _shhhed_ her, pointing to the stage. The children were starting.

The Christmas concert was just over an hour long. At some point, Sophie had rested her head on her husband's shoulder, sighing at the sight of their daughter displaying her new-found passion. Somewhere in the crowd she heard the distinct digital click of a photo being taken via cellular phone. It could easy be a parent photographing their little angel, but she suspected otherwise, as the sound was facing them, and not the stage. From the way Artemis tensed up she suspected he had heard it as well.

The concert ended, with all the students standing to bow. The solos were recognizes one at a time, and when Ella stood her parents and manservant stood as well to applaud her enthusiastically. She blushed, and the crowd laughed.

Afterwards there was a small reception with cake and punch. Sophie and Artemis greeted their daughter warmly, with Sophie remarking upon the matching dress and tie. "I knew they would look fantastic together!"

"You've said that a hundred times already, Mamma."

"Well, I've been right every time."

Artemis stooped to his daughter's height. "You were brilliant, Ella."

"Thank you, Father."

"All that practice really…uh," He glanced to his fiancé, who nodded encouragingly. "…showed in your performance. I am very proud of you."

"Thank you." She repeated. Things were still slightly awkward between them. Creating a relationship out of nearly nothing hadn't been easy in the slightest, even with Sophia's help. Though difficult, they had worked something out. Artemis was still learning the basics of fatherhood, and he was putting forth a good effort.

"Shall we go out for dinner?" Artemis asked. "I asked the kitchen staff to hold dinner. I wasn't sure what you wanted."

Ella pursed her lips, thinking. "Can we go to that Thai place Mamma and I went to last week."

Artemis cast Sophie a look. It was a cheap takeout restaurant. Not even two stars. Not his style, either. But it was what Ella had requested, so he faked a smile and asked Butler for the car. His fiancée smirked smugly, very pleased with him. She could see past his smile easily. Artemis rolled his eyes, but his grin deepened to become more natural.

Butler brought the car 'round. They piled in. Ella leaned into her mother, half on her lap. Artemis sat on the other side of her, stroking her hair fondly. They continued the praise of her performance, with Artemis adding careful criticism accordingly. Ella accepted these comments with grace. Later, in the restaurant, Artemis joined his daughter in a lively debate regarding bio-ethics over their seafood curry, with Butler occasionally observing a point they had missed. Sophie smiled quietly in the background feeling, for the first time in over a decade, peace. She was content and, more importantly, the family she had never dared to hope to have, was perfectly happy. It was not perfect. Not even close. She and Artemis argued just as much as they had prior, during, after, than during again, their engagement. She threw things and he glared, speaking in a low and dark voice. Ella had a few problems in school. The house was messier, the dog was loud and Sophie's rock music louder.

But that was their life. And to Sophie, it was the ideal life.

"Sophie?"

She jerked out of her reverie."Hmmm?"

Artemis's raised eyebrows carried a good humor. "Are you ready to go?" He held his arm out, and offering.

She accepted it easily and her fiancée helped her stand. Ella skipped ahead of them, bounding out the door with her youthful energy. Her skirt flounced up playfully. Stopping just before the glass double doors, she turned to Artemis. He paused as well. Sophia reached up to straighten his tie, smoothing it down his chest when she was finished. Artemis released a warm gush of breath. "Yes?"

Sophie looked up into his bright blue eyes, glinting in the dull light from the paper lanterns. "I love you." She whispered.

"I know."

"I know you know."

"Good." He softened, squeezing her shoulder. "Because I love you as well."

"Good."

"And I love our daughter."

"Also good."

"I like to think so."

"Let's go home."

"Yes. Let's."


End file.
